In Another World
by Basmathgirl
Summary: In an Alternative Universe, Donna Noble meets a hill farmer called John Smith at the beginning of a new life. (Rated updated to M from T for safety sake)
1. Chapter 1

**Prompt:** "think of David Tennant as a hill farmer" provided by hubby (one night when I claimed counting sheep wouldn't help me sleep)  
**Disclaimer:** I sort of own the man that made me think of this; does that count?  
**A/N:** it will soon become apparent that I know next to nothing about hill farming, so I'll stop the pretence right here.  
**A/N2:** posted in order to wish **serenityslady** a very Happy Birthday!

* * *

**In Another World**

**Part 1**

.

The farmhouse door slammed shut, and out marched a darkly brooding man tightly wrapped against the cooling elements as he trudged across the mud; his cap pulled tight over his head and his thoughts concentrated on his tasks for the day. To family he was known as "young John", to friends as "Dr John"; and to himself he was merely an idiot. He had a load of silage to deal with, and it was going to be a very long time until he saw his bed.

Sitting in the entrance to the farm yard stood his transport, a fairly modern tractor that had once been the envy of all their neighbours. That had been such a long time ago, back when he had contemplated staying at university to add to his degrees. Never mind. All gone now. That dream no longer existed. Sometimes it pained his heart to know that things could have been completely different, but it was foolish to go down that route.

Jez the sheepdog came running out of the farmhouse and gave John an accusing look as he stood awaiting instructions from his master; but the border collie wasn't needed that day, so he skulked off to investigate what the chickens were up to once he was dismissed.

* * *

Turning left off the main carriageway and away from the traffic, Donna found herself in the sudden solitude of Hanging Lane and breathed a sigh of relief. Evidently she was getting nearer to her new job. Gawd knows why she had been chosen to come up here to the middle of nowhere, but she had jumped at the chance to work in an atmosphere that was totally different to the one she normally resided, on the outskirts of London. As a townie she was suspicious of all this openness with its greenery, but she was sure she'd get used to it by the time her current stint as a secretary ended. Call it a working holiday, if you will.

With growing caution, she steered her small blue Peugeot down the narrow country lane, unable to see anything other than the casually dotted trees and enclosing hedgerows that surrounded the fields. There could be a whole amusement park on the other side of that woody growth for all she knew, or absolutely nothing at all except for grass. There was no way of knowing without actually climbing up and looking over the hedge.

Then suddenly there was a break in the hedge, showing a metal five bar gate guarding the entrance to a fairly desolate looking field of what could have been grass, carrot tops or anything else. Donna wasn't exactly up on that sort of knowledge. She smiled as she took the opportunity to peer into another world.

"You have reached your destination," the car satnav abruptly announced.

"You what?!" Donna exclaimed as she slowly stopped the car, and sought out the cottage from the address slip she'd been given. "Where is it? There's nothing here, you idiot!"

And indeed there wasn't any dwelling whatsoever to find on that stretch of road. All there was within sight was the continuing hedgerow growth and the fields either side of the lane.

"This can't be right," Donna muttered to no one in particular, and dived into the glove compartment in the vain hope she had remembered to leave a copy of a road atlas in there without realising it. Alas it was empty of anything so useful; unless you count a packet of tissues and three CDs as being particularly helpful when navigating a vehicle.

Having stopped the car, she became aware of the sound of another engine reasonably near. A farm type engine, to be precise. A relieved smile spread across her face. This meant there might be intelligent life nearby that could possibly tell her in which direction to go.

Carefully stepping out of the car, just in case there was some mud or muck she would need to negotiate, she stood up and turned her head about in order to work out where the engine noise was coming from. Luck had it that it was quite close and near the gate she had just passed. With a refined dash, well, as refined as you can be in heels, she ran towards the gate and the sound.

Bugger! She would have to climb it to see properly. Using a well-placed foot on the bottom rung of the gate, she pulled herself up and was delighted to see a blue tractor being driven by a man. With no particular plan in her head, she waved madly at him whilst shouting, "Excuse me! Can you help?"

John thought he was hallucinating when he saw what he thought at first was an angel sitting on his fence. A woman had appeared with beautiful flowing hair, and wearing a cream coloured woollen coat ensemble with matching knee high boots. A second glance showed that she was almost sitting astride the gate whilst waving desperately. Presumably the waving was intended for him.

It was hard to miss her long distinguishable hair; exquisite ginger hair. For some reason he had always had a 'thing' for ginger hair; and in her case it definitely helped as she tried to attract his attention. She was certainly putting a lot of effort into the waving.

Was she some passing posh weekender who thought he carried bottles of fresh milk on his person? It wouldn't have surprised him. Such people often assumed all sorts of things.

Aiming for nonchalance, he stopped to find out what she wanted. After slowing the tractor to a halt he changed his first dismissive impression and realised she not only looked more than pensive, she was also rather pretty. In fact he'd go as far as saying she was gorgeous. Today might be his lucky day.

She let out a breath of joy when he seemed to notice her and brought the tractor to a halt about ten feet away from where she still stood on the gate like one of the Railway Children; but without waving the red flannel knickers on a stick, obviously.

He put his head out of the cab window and called out, "What did you say?"

Typical, she thought. Men can never hear you when you need them to. With any luck Bob the Builder here would be able to fix it. "I said, 'can you help me?' I'm having a spot of bother!" she yelled when silence returned to the field.

Trouble? That instantly caught his attention once he'd wrestled his brain into action; and he wondered what sort of bother she was in. Probably a spot of car trouble with her engine, no doubt, like running out of petrol; or something as simple as being stuck in the mud. Except there wasn't any mud in that part of the lane to get stuck in…

"What sort of trouble?" he suavely wondered once he had climbed down out of the cab and he got close enough to properly see her in fine detail. The nearer he got the more he liked what he saw.

A piece of paper was hastily produced from her coat pocket and waved under his nose. "I'm looking for this address. Do you know it?"

He took the paper carefully from her outstretched fingers and read it, instantly recognising the name. "You want Lilac Cottage? You're not all that far from it. It's about a mile and a half away," he supplied, adding in a vague bit of fingering pointing.

"My satnav insisted I'd found my destination," Donna explained her actions. "Stupid thing!"

"Why did it do that?" he asked as he handed the piece of paper back to be hidden away in her pocket, having surreptitiously read her other details on there.

"I don't know, do I?" she whined, climbing back down to stand on the ground again. "If you think you know better, mate, you go deal with it and I'll stand there in your field doing my best to make you feel stupid."

It was all he could do to not throw a glare at her; he rather liked her impertinence. "Okay, if you insist," he retorted, and immediately opened the gate to walk though and follow her to the car. He could feel her eyes looking with disapproval at his wellie boots. "I won't get mud on your carpet. Promise." With that, he confidently trudged over to where her car still sat waiting patiently for her return.

"You'd better not," she snarled as he joined her by sitting on the front passenger seat, "otherwise you can clean it off."

Ignoring that threat, he took the liberty of switching her satnav system on. It sort of did nothing. They sat for an awkward minute as it waited to boot itself up, find satellites and then display her current position after she re-explained what had happened earlier and he listened good-naturedly with suppressed amusement. "Ah, there's your problem," he smugly noted, prodding the monitor. "You're in the wrong place."

"No kidding, Sherlock," she sarcastically commented. "I was there for that one. What I don't know is why. It was clear as day where I should go when it showed the whole journey before I set off."

A glance at her manicured hands solved that mystery. "It was your fingernail. You must have caught it on the screen and repositioned your destination by accident," he triumphantly declared. "It's easily done," he added when she looked crestfallen.

"Yeah, if you're a stupid cow," she self-deprecated, and averted her gaze.

His heart went out to her in sympathy. It was obvious that she often put herself down and he really didn't like that thought; not when it was someone as lovely and ginger as her. "You really aren't far away from Lilac Cottage. Carry on down this road and it's up on your right, near the village green." Clearing his throat, he inquired, "Are you visiting family?"

Donna chuckled and flashed him a warm smile; one that matched his own. He had quite nice soft brown eyes, she mentally noted, as distinguishing wrinkles appeared around them; followed by the thought, 'I wonder if he has got any hair under that cap.' Knowing her luck he'd have one of those horrible comb-overs bald men used to have.

"No, not family," she confessed. "I'm up here for a job and I'm really late now. I was supposed to be there by twelve."

"Blame me for keeping you talking, if you like," he magnanimously offered. Phew! There didn't seem to suggest there was any sign of a dependent child, or man… not that he was interested to know that snippet; much. "A job? Doing what, if you don't mind me asking?" he bashfully wondered.

"That's okay," she smiled. "I'm here to help Jocasta Newberry with her latest book. Do you know her?"

John shook his head. "Not personally. There are a lot of people I don't know in the village these days. What sort of book is it?"

"As long as it's not long and boring I don't care," she admitted as they still sat gazing at each other. "I'm Donna, by the way. Donna Noble." She stuck out a hand.

He took her offered hand and shook it with glee. "I'm John Smith. Nice to meet you, Donna." 'Such a soft warm hand,' he noted. And there was no wedding or engagement ring. "Perhaps we'll erm... We'll get to meet again soon."

"That would be nice," she agreed, and realised she was gawping at him. "I'd better let you get back to work. You've no doubt got more important things to deal with. I think your wife might take exception to you sitting in a strange woman's car."

"It was a pleasure," he gushed with sincerity in return. "And I don't have a wife or anything to get upset about me gaining a new friend; so if you ever feel like meeting me in the Red Lion for a welcoming drink, please feel free to." That was smooth, wasn't it? Surely he hadn't overplayed his hand, and made it ambiguous enough if she wasn't interested in taking this whatever-it-was between them a step further.

He wasn't married or anything! Donna mentally danced a victory dance. "That would be lovely, thank you. A proper village pub drink. There's only one thing I need to ask you now that I think about it."

"Oh?" he gasped, instantly worried what was coming next to dash his newly formed hopes.

Instead she did her best to smile brightly. "Where exactly _is_ the Red Lion?"

The broadest grin she'd ever seen lit up his face. "It's right by the village green; you can't miss it when you look across from Lilac Cottage.

"Across the green," she confirmed by repeating to herself. "I'll see you around then, John."

"Until then, Donna," he cheerily bid her goodbye.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** I totally made up the author Elizabeth Armitage since I didn't want to diss an actual one.

* * *

**Part 2**

.

A few seconds later John was left standing alone in the lane waving at Donna's departing car. As soon as she was out of sight he hastily pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialled a number. "Hello, Mum? Are my black jeans clean? I need them for tonight... Oh nothing, just might be meeting a friend for a drink, so I'll be leaving home just after seven... You will?! Thanks Mum! See you later. Bye."

With an added spring in his step, he headed back to his task, feeling that the world was suddenly opening up all sorts of possibilities.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Donna found herself parked outside Lilac Cottage; taking in all its glory. It was everything the name suggested and more. In fact it was utterly gorgeous with it pale lilac daubed walls, thatched roof, Tudor beams and pretty cottage garden full of all sorts of plants. Just the sort of place that would be breath-taking in the height of summer because it looked pretty good in the drabness of a clearing misty day.

She hadn't even reached the oak dark-stained front door with leaded windows and cast iron adornments when it was opened, and an older woman peeped out. Donna estimated that she was probably close to her own mother in age but perhaps a good five years younger.

"Hello!" she exclaimed. "You must be Donna."

"I am," Donna readily confirmed with relief.

"Come in. Come in. I'm Jocasta." She reached out to grab hold of Donna's arm and guide her in through the door. "I was worried you had changed your mind."

Donna found herself standing in a low ceiling room with a small, deeply set window that let in plenty of light into a warm looking, tastefully and sympathetically furnished living room. One wall was dominated by a huge brick fireplace, probably an original feature, and a wood burning fire. Another wall held an enclosed flight of stairs up to the bedrooms. "Oh no, I wouldn't have done that," she tried to console Jocasta. "I got lost, thanks to my stupid satnav leading me in the wrong direction; but I did get the chance to meet a very nice man who told me how to get here."

Jocasta was intrigued by the sudden blush that appeared on Donna's cheeks. "Was that very far from here? I may know him."

"I think it was a couple of miles back towards Charlham. He said his name was John, and he drives a tractor," Donna supplied.

"Hmm. It might be someone from Hollow Farm or Winthrop Hall Farm," Jocasta guessed thoughtfully. "Oh well! I might recognise him if I ever see him. Come through to the kitchen and I'll make us tea before I show you where everything is."

Donna gratefully followed her into a surprisingly modern kitchen. The only nod towards the past was the almost compulsory AGA cooker that probably also supplied the heating and hot water. Many such cottages had them.

"We'll have some lunch once you've brought your belongings in and you've seen your workspace," Jocasta declared decisively.

Donna could tell that Jocasta's general no nonsense attitude would extend to every aspect of her life. Even Jocasta's clothing was functional and had a style of its own. "Talking of work, what sort of thing do you do? I know you're a writer, obviously, otherwise you wouldn't need me here, but I don't know anything beyond that."

"Don't you, dear?" Jocasta seemed rather taken aback that Donna didn't know her fame. "I write historical novels; romantic historical novels, to be precise. Ever heard of Brannigan's Bard?" Getting a shake of the head, she forged on with, "Mission Reliable? Wessex Foolery? Oh you must know Walk of the White Lady!"

"I'm afraid not," Donna admitted, still shaking her head. "I'm more of a P. D. James or Agatha Christie reader, to be honest, although I did once read an Elizabeth Armitage." That admission didn't go down very well.

Jocasta sneered, "One wonders why you would."

Best not to mention Elizabeth Armitage then. "It was just lying about when I was on holiday," Donna apologised. "I didn't specifically choose it."

"Yes, well, enough about that. You'll soon become acquainted with my work." There was much bustling about, getting out the tea things on the worktop in front of her whilst the kettle boiled.

"I'm sure I'll love it," Donna vowed, partly in appeasement.

They sat down together at the small kitchen table to enjoy their beverage.

After having poured them both tea and taken several sips of the hot liquid, Jocasta thoughtfully considered Donna. "What do young people do in the evening?"

"Wear hoodies and hang about being bored underneath streetlights, from what I've seen round our way. Why?" Donna asked in return, sipping from her own cup.

Jocasta sighed. "No, my dear. I'm trying to find out what you would like to do for entertainment this evening."

"Oh, I see! Not that I'd class myself as being young anymore," Donna modestly blurted out, and then blushed as she remembered her earlier encounter. "I erm... Seeing as you have nothing planned I can think of something to possibly try out tonight."

"Really?" It wasn't exactly a surprise to Jocasta's ears; she was expecting her new acquaintance to rattle off a list of all the television soap operas she wanted to view. That is, she did, until she spotted the accompanying blush.

"Yes. Sorry about this, seeing as it's my first night here, but John mentioned a pub around here called the Red Lion." Donna then did her level best to nonchalantly drink the rest of her tea. "We could go there tonight, you know, if you fancy giving it a go."

"Me... in a pub...," Jocasta muttered to herself as ideas whirled through her head. Here was a first class opportunity to observe a possible brand new romance up-close; it'd be invaluable research for future writings. She leaned in closer to Donna and proffered her first query. "Tell me, my dear, what did you think when you first saw this John?"

That didn't need much thinking about in the slightest. "Relief, mainly. The satnav had dumped me in god knows where, and he just showed up in his tractor."

"Describe him for me, please," Jocasta urged her to continue with.

"Well erm… He's quite tall, about the same age as me, fairly slim built, he was wearing your typical farmer gear; you know, big black coat, flat cap and green wellies. Oh, he has a nice unshaven face with these big brown eyes, and as far as I know he isn't married or anything." Donna briefly grimaced. "He could be newly divorced. Who knows?" A little shrug was added for emphasis.

That was interesting, Jocasta thought. Nothing was discouraging so far. "And what do you suppose he thought when he saw you?"

"I have no idea! Probably saw a batty woman hanging on his gate shouting at him and took pity on me, for all I know. I wasn't worrying about that aspect; I just wanted him to tell me where I was going," Donna answered honestly.

"Interesting," Jocasta sighed. "How did he come to mention the pub?"

"It's strange you should ask," Donna admitted, "because I've been wondering that myself and just assumed he was being friendly after all we'd talked about. I told him about my satnav, he came and sat in my car..."

"He sat in your car?!" Jocasta interrupted.

Donna anxiously licked her lips at the implied accusation. It hadn't seemed a wrong thing to happen at the time but now she was being forced to reconsider it. "He did; to see why my satnav had thought I'd reached my destination," she hastily excused him. "We decided I'd caught the screen with my nail." She held up the offending finger. "Then he reset it all, told me where this place is and then invited me to a welcome drink some time. He was very nice about it all; not a bit creepy."

"I'm sure he isn't, but I must admit that I like the idea of actually going into the local pub and possibly getting a sneaky peek at your rescuer. Yes, I shall take you up on your offer and stay for a while." Jocasta obliviously rubbed her hands together in glee. "It will be such an adventure! Just think of it; I can see the title page already."

Title page?! "Title page of what exactly?" Donna wondered.

"Why, my next book, my dear! I shall use this experience to decide on my characters. Of course, I shall change the names from the people in the pub," she added as she gripped Donna's arm conspiratorially. "We can't have them trying to claim royalties, or sue me for defamation of character."

"Of course," Donna murmured in reluctant agreement. "This next book, which I am assuming will be a romance; you'd better not be thinking of putting me in there," she warned.

Jocasta instantly looked extremely guilty. "You, dear? No, dear! I would never do that to you; not without consultation."

That was a 'yes' then. Donna tried to hide her appalled expression behind her fingers. Her new employer was turning out to be nuttier than a fruit cake. A bit dotty, but nice with it; and this was her first time working for a writer. For all she knew this was a tendency of writers... Or not, as the case may be.

* * *

This view continued when Jocasta showed Donna the pile of work she would have to surmount. There were folders and files propped up at all sorts of odd angles around the small office space that had taken over the vast majority of what would have been the dining room. In one corner there was an ancient filing cabinet, and a gasping cheese plant sitting in an ornate pot, that had seen better days. Fortunately the computer and its printer were fairly new and reliable models.

"I'm afraid there are rather a lot of papers," Jocasta apologised. "My last typist got rather confused, and mixed up all sorts of things."

"So you've always used a typist?" Donna enquired.

Jocasta nodded. "I suppose that I should have explained that I dictate my stories and then revise as I go along. Is that a problem for your skills? I could use a personal assistant in my daily life to help me sort things out."

Donna smiled confidently back. "Not a problem at all, Ms Newberry."

"Call me Jocasta, please." A relieved smile spread across her employer's face.

* * *

The smile on Donna's face faltered slightly as she considered her reflection in her newly acquired bedroom mirror some hours later as she got ready for their trip to the pub, and her thoughts inevitably led to John the farmer's boy. Was she mad for not pushing for a date with him but leaving things really vague between them? Was she mad for questioning this decision? Or was she madder for having told Jocasta? It was all very bewildering, to be honest, and a little exciting.

It was a rather old mirror hanging on her new wall. In fact every item of furniture in the low-ceilinged room was probably antique and expensive, or at least extremely hard to replace. Fortunately the bedding was all fresh and new, so that was a relief to her system. The general quietness of the place was a little unsettling but she was sure she'd adapt, eventually. Anything had to be better than the constant hubbub of the city and the people there... okay, one particular person.

A sharp rap on the door brought her out of her musings.

"Are you ready, Donna?" Jocasta stood expectantly on the small landing. "Do you think I should take my notepad?"

This would be like dealing with a child, she realised. "Definitely not, if they aren't used to seeing you in there. They'll end up thinking you are an inspector, or just plain rude," Donna warned her.

Jocasta's eager face fell. "Okay, if you think so. But another time...?"

"Yes, another time," Donna agreed with a friendly touch on the arm. "Let's get going." Who'd have thought she'd end up leading an older woman astray on her first night in this job? It certainly felt like she was leading Jocasta into a midnight feast or a jolly jamboree from one of those Enid Blyton books.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **I'll take this opportunity to wish you all a Happy New Year!

* * *

**Part 3**

.

When they stepped through the ornate wooden pub doors the clock above the bar said it was precisely seven thirty; but Donna wasn't especially worried about that. Instead sense of excitement within her sought a particular form that she hoped was in there, somewhere. Alas, she couldn't spot him.

The pub interior was full of low wooden beams and loud red carpeting, like many country pubs seemed to have, around a fireplace decorated with horse brasses. There were half a dozen or so people already in the bar, so she lead Jocasta further in. "You sit yourself down here..." She guided her to a seat by the large fireplace that dominated one corner of the salon where Jocasta would be able to observe almost everybody. "...and I'll go and get us a drink while we wait. What can I get you?"

Jocasta nervously smiled her thanks, requesting, "A glass of white wine if they have it, or a sweet sherry if they don't, please."

After draping her coat over the back of her assigned chair, Donna then headed for the bar. She had almost reached it when the sole bloke leaning against it turned and she was able to see his face.

"Hello!" she gasped out in surprise.

Before her was not some near-middle aged balding man with terrible dress sense and the faint odour of cow dung that she'd been anticipating. No, instead was a well-dressed nearing middle-age man in black tight fitting jeans that showed off his bum very nicely, a black shirt covered by a charcoal jumper, a dazzling smile on a still handsome face, topped by a thick head of brown hair that framed his features in such a way that she instantly wanted to reach out and swipe his fringe out of his smouldering chocolate-y velvet brown eyes. Gobsmacked is the phrase she'd use to describe herself in that instance as she took in his transformation.

"Hello!" John greeted her in return. It was her; it was actually her! All it had taken was a casual invitation for the woman he wanted to appear to stand before him, so taking a deep breath to calm his nerves; he took the initiative to lean forward and kiss her cheek. It was a risk that immediately paid off in droves; and he wasn't just talking about the chance to taste her soft skin. He'd heard that city types liked that sort of thing, and evidently she did, judging by the way she moved closer. He had to say, she looked stunning as she stood before him wearing a blue dress this time, in a shade which brought out the colour of her eyes beautifully. "Let me get you a drink. What would you like?"

Despite hearing this expected question, she was caught completely off guard. "Oh erm. A Coke for me, please, and do they have a white wine? I've brought along my employer, you see; she hasn't been in here before and wanted to see who came in, so...," Donna apologetically blustered.

John smiled kindly. His evening may have taken an unwanted turn but he didn't have to be an arse about it. It was retrievable. "That's okay. I understand."

"You'll understand a bit more when you meet her," she confessed in a low tone.

He liked the way she had leaned in to whisper into his ear, brushing her whole body against his in a tantalising way. The next second it was sadly over and she was standing away from his personal zone, but not too far, he noted.

The barman soon appeared on the other side of the bar and dealt with their order, so John took the opportunity to gaze upon Donna as she stood before him. There was a strange mix of anxiety and confidence in her pose. "Is there something the matter?" he asked.

She grimaced ever so slightly for a second. "No, not really but I think I'd better warn you that I found out what sort of writer Jocasta is."

Intrigued, he pressed her for information. "Is it something good or bad? Will she be plotting my murder by the end of the evening, or how to organise my chrysanthemums?"

"Probably the complete opposite of murder, but it would involve groaning." Donna blushed when his eyebrows shot up in surprise. Yeah, she really didn't need to fancy this man-puppy any more than she did at the moment, but she had to warn him. "She writes romances; historical romances."

"And...?" he encouraged as he handed her a filled glass before picking up the wine and his own beer.

Donna started to lead the way to their table, telling him as she turned, "We might end up in her next book."

He let that sink in as he followed but he was instantly distracted by the sway of her hips and the way her dress skimmed over her bottom to land mid-thigh, letting his gaze easily glide down her long legs. As his American friend would say, she had a mighty fine ass! The view was certainly doing things to him as he watched her manoeuvre her way across the pub. She stopped in front of a bizarrely dressed woman who looked old enough to be her mother but obviously wasn't. There was more than a vague familiarity about her as she stared up at him inquisitively.

"Jocasta, this is John that I met this afternoon. John, my employer, Jocasta," Donna made the introductions, and watched as they briefly shook hands.

"You might have seen me before. I've lived here in the village for almost seven years now," Jocasta brightly added as she took him in. Hmm. She could certainly see what had caught Donna's eye. Whether he was worth the interest was about to be found out.

"Seven years? Still quite new around here then," John commented as he stood within her enquiring gaze.

"How long does it take normally take to be accepted as a local?" Donna couldn't help asking as they sat themselves down, and was pleased that John had shifted his chair closer to hers.

"Only a lifetime," John joked, although he wondered if outsiders were ever considered to be local. "Is your wine okay, Jocasta?" he aimed towards her.

She took an extremely cautious sip. Then she pulled a face that was half in pain, half in satisfaction. "It will do," she stated and then waved her hand at the two of them. "Don't mind me; just carry on as though I weren't here."

Trying to stifle a laugh, Donna retorted, "It's a bit hard to do that, Jocasta, when you might as well bring out your microscope to peer at us with."

Jocasta merely ignored that and turned her full gaze onto John. "Tell me, John, what did you think when you first saw Donna here?"

John spluttered into the beer he was trying to drink. How was he supposed to answer that? "She suddenly appeared on the edge of our bottom field. I wondered if she were real for a second."

"Why was that?" Jocasta enquired.

"Because she looked like..." The confession halted on his lips. He didn't want to tell this Jocasta woman that Donna had made him think he was seeing an angel; that was for him to tell in private. "...someone wanting to know if I had any eggs on me."

"Eggs?!" Donna sneered. "Why would I want to stop you for eggs, farm boy?!"

A chuckle almost escaped. "Outsiders to the village often expect us to carry milk and eggs with us, but you obviously didn't." He smiled consolingly. "Although I did expect your car to be stuck in the mud or a ditch somewhere."

She lightly swatted his arm. "I'm not that daft!"

"How am I to know?" he teased. Oh how he wanted to reach out and touch her then, any small gesture would do; but for some reason they had ended up with a chaperone. "But I'm hoping you have more than a few brain cells to rub together."

"Why's that?" Donna queried, swiftly intrigued. "Are you secretly working for MI5? Will you suddenly swing into my bedroom with a box of Black Magic?"

"Because the lady loves," John quoted the old chocolates advert, and they giggled together. "No, although if you want me to come in your bedroom I..." His attention was abruptly focused on the fact that Jocasta was sitting there, peering at him intensely, so he cleared his throat and returned to Donna's original question. "I usually come in here on a Monday night to take part in a pub quiz, if you're interested."

"I'm game; what about you, Jocasta?" Donna enthused and then waited for the answer.

"Ooh, a pub quiz. How spiffing! I've never seen one in action. I may sit and watch for a while if I don't know any of the non-book answers," Jocasta eagerly replied. "Don't mind me; just go ahead with your fun. But I want to leave before it gets too dark. I hope you don't mind too much." She set her beady eyes on Donna to emphasise her point.

"Alright," Donna reluctantly agreed. "I'll make sure you get home safely. Did you have any plans in mind for later?"

Jocasta primly replied, "I plan to be tucked up in bed reading a book so I don't want to get home too late."

"What time is too late?" Donna asked, hoping it wouldn't be too early; and revised her own plans for being tucked up in bed or anywhere else.

"Well, you both have work in the morning," Jocasta reminded her, "so I think no later than an hour before closing time, don't you?!"

Donna nodded her agreement. Jocasta had a point after all; so she turned her attention onto John. "What's the setup for this quiz?"

Smirking in delight, he drew out his writing implements. "All we need is a spare half hour or so, some brains and the provided answer sheet."

Normally John joined some others in a quiz team but he decided to start his own little team with Donna and Jocasta. Fortunately he had had the chance to forewarn his team mates of this possible decision, sure in the knowledge they'd understand, just this once, and not doubting he'd gain some light-hearted ribbing over it.

When the questions started up it was easy to forget that Jocasta was sitting watching everything, and he almost snuggled up with Donna over their sheet of paper as they jotted down their answers. He let her do the writing whilst he whispered into her ear. Excellent plan, he decided, since this required wrapping his left arm around her shoulder and keeping his right hand on the table next to hers, occasionally taking over the writing when he knew that the answer required a particularly tricky word. That was his excuse for almost holding hands or trailing his fingertips across her exposed skin every now and then as they exchanged responses, of the verbal and nonverbal kind.

By the end of the quiz, he was pleasantly surprised how far her general knowledge went; she answered some sports questions he would never have known, and he could feel her being impressed by his scientific knowledge. Together they managed to gain quite an impressive score. Of course it had been the one question they had disagreed over and guessed the answer for that lost them the contest to another team, but it didn't really matter; for John was certain he was winning in the grand scheme of things by having such a delectable companion for the evening.

"Thank you," he murmured and brought her hand up to kiss the back of it in a gentlemanly manner, pressing his soft lips onto her pale but freckly skin.

Donna was taken aback that he'd done this, but then he had spent the entire time placing tender touches on her hand whilst keeping those lips of his within easy snogging distance. He was keen, she had to give him that; and he smelt divine! When you added it all up, he was a gorgeous package that any woman would be happy to have practically drooling over them. "You're welcome," she gushed in return. "Jocasta's no doubt getting ready to go," she noted as Jocasta headed towards the toilets. "I wonder if she got what she wanted?"

"No doubt," John retorted low into her ear. "Look, I'm not trying to be mean, but can we not worry about her for a minute? Right now I couldn't care less, and I'd much rather talk about you."


	4. Chapter 4

**Part 4**

.

"Me? There's nothing to tell," Donna modestly blustered. "I'm not that interesting. Now you, you are far more worth talking about. Where did all that science stuff come from? Not off a packet of seeds, that's for sure."

John grinned proudly. "I have degrees in applied physics and mechanical engineering."

"Oh wow!" she gasped, clearly impressed. "Why aren't you doing that instead of driving a tractor?"

It was obviously a topic that pained him. "I would have gone further but Dad needed me home, so home I came. The sheep don't worry much about such things. But I keep my hand in, by doing a spot of training down at the local college; and it helps supplement my income on the farm. Hill farming isn't exactly a great payer these days."

"I'm sorry," she sympathised, and took the chance to lay a hand on top of his; enjoying the gentle squeeze it elicited. Any second now those lips would be hers.

Their evening together abruptly ended as soon as Jocasta arrived back at the table. "Time to leave, I think, Donna dear," she requested.

With many promises to contact each other soon, John found himself standing alone, watching Donna go.

"Hiya buddy!" a loud American voice accompanied a slap on the back.

"Jack! How are you? What are you doing here? I thought you were still in Mildenhall," John cried out in delight when he turned to view whoever it was.

"I'm well, thanks; just passing through, on the way to considering a new position." Jack warmly greeted him and they briefly hugged. "It's been too long since I saw you. How are the folks?"

"Fine; they're just fine." John couldn't stop grinning at his friend. "Where are you staying?"

"With Martha, of course." Jack then waved his finger towards the pub doors. "Who was the little redhead I saw you with as I came in?" he asked inquisitively.

"Oh…, that was Donna. My new friend Donna. I invited her here for a drink… a welcoming drink to the village," John bashfully answered.

"I see," Jack replied, already guessing where his friend's thoughts were going on this issue. "What's she going to do around here?" He didn't want to offend his friend but the place didn't have many attractions to lure newcomers.

"Her agency sent her here, to work for a local writer, would you believe," John said as he tried to repress his glee.

"Agency?" Jack repeated in horror. "Oh no! I thought I'd cancelled that."

This suddenly sounded potentially bad. "What have you got to do with Donna working for an agency?" John inevitably asked in his confusion.

Jack looked around them to check no one was attempting to listen to their conversation before wrapping an arm around John's shoulders and whispering, "I have a small confession."

"Jack! What did you do?" John cried out in warning.

There was no going back now, so Jack had to tell the truth. "I don't know how to tell you this, but we thought it would be fun to arrange for a girl to come and entertain you."

"A girl, as in an escort agency type of girl?" John sought to confirm. His soul was already trying to escape from its confines with a downward journey through his socks.

Trying to console his friend, Jack cheerily answered, "No big deal, Doctor! It was just an idea to get you out of a rut. For what it's worth, Martha thought it was a stupid idea and tried to talk us out of it."

"Well, she would," John commented, deep in thought. "So Donna was only being nice to me because…"

Jack slapped him on the back again. "You have a lot of redeeming qualities that I'm sure any woman would appreciate."

"But not without being paid first," John forlornly stated. "Listen Jack, do you mind if we do this catch up later? I have to get home. I need an early night; busy day tomorrow."

"Sure!" Jack smiled warmly at him. "You still lecturing up at the college?"

"Yes, three nights a week," John said distractedly as he stood gazing blankly at the place he'd been talking to Donna. "Will you still be here on Friday?"

"Until Sunday afternoon, so don't go running off now," Jack playful threatened.

"I'll see you Friday then," John replied as he bade him farewell. He couldn't wait to get out of the pub and examine his thoughts.

Donna... A prostitute? Really?! It still didn't seem right. And what did that make Jocasta? A madam, peddling love; and apparently making a living writing about it. Unless that was a pseudonym for what she did? She certainly wasn't what he would have expected a sex worker to look like. Nor was Donna, come to that. Was he some huge idiot for falling for a high class tart like this? With a surge of fury, he repeatedly thumped his steering wheel hard as he drove along, and resolved to personally ask her outright at the first opportunity.

* * *

"That you, John?" his mother called out when the front door was slammed shut. "Did your meet up go alright?"

John appeared before her, looking very downhearted. "It was okay," he muttered and then plonked himself down on a seat by her side.

"That good, eh," she commented as he continued to angrily pout whilst pretending to watch the television. This needed more careful handling; he'd been so full of excited anticipation before he went out for the evening. "Did she turn up, as you'd hoped?"

He slunk further into his seat and rested his head on his hand. "Yes, she was there."

This was beginning to feel like twenty questions. "Was she there with someone else?"

"Sort of," he glumly supplied. "She brought her employer with her; Jocasta, the woman that lives in Lilac Cottage."

"Oh, her!" his mum exclaimed. "Jocasta Newberry. She seems okay though a bit posh and full of herself." In fact she knew her a bit better than that, but she wanted to sound suitably vague about the situation.

"That's her," John confirmed, and glanced at where his dad was slumped over asleep in his favourite armchair. "Mum, don't tell Dad this, but... I feel like such an idiot right now."

"Why's that, pet?" she sympathised.

"Because I met this beautiful woman, and for a moment I thought she was really interested in me," he sighed.

"What did she do to make you think she wasn't?" his mother wondered. "Did she go after another man?"

His face instantly fell further, if that was at all possible. "Nothing like that," he dismissed. "She only left to take that Jocasta home. We had been sitting, talking and drinking... and things." A wistful smile appeared on his face as he recalled their time together. "We even arranged to meet by Friday night if we couldn't synch diaries before then."

"Sounds like she hated you on sight," his mother commented sarcastically. "So what's so terrible about all that? You've had far worse in the past."

"I just don't think I have enough for her tastes," he lamely argued.

There was a snort of scorn. "What do you expect her tastes to be? Hitchhiking around the galaxy or something?"

"Mum!" he admonished. "I'm just saying that me being a farmer might not be enough for her."

This seemed highly unlikely. "Did she know about our farm before you met her tonight?"

He reluctantly answered, "Well... Yeah; she saw me driving the tractor."

The penny dropped then, and Verity Smith knew her son was talking about the woman that had made such an impression on him lunchtime. "John, just talk to her, please, before you go jumping to conclusions," she softly begged him. "There aren't many reasons why she would have sought you out."

Little did she know that that wasn't the massive comfort it should have been.

"Okay," he promised, and instantly stood up; oozing disappointment. "I'm off to bed. Good night, Mum."

"Night, pet," she called out as he despondently slouched off. It was her concern for him that made her vow to contact Jocasta Newberry as soon as possible and find out what might have gone wrong. Who said mums shouldn't interfere?

* * *

"Ferrets?! You want me to research ferrets?" Donna sought to confirm as she sat at her new desk awaiting orders on her first proper day of employment.

"Yes please, dear," Jocasta nonchalantly replied and went back to reading the morning post.

"But... I was expecting to look up some battle or other. Why ferrets?" Donna asked, completely confused. "I assume you saw someone in the pub and saw 'ferrets' written all over them or something."

Jocasta looked up from the invoice in her hands. "Yes, something like that, my dear."

"You're not thinking of John, are you?" Donna's shocked tones were all too evident. "How can you look at him and think that, for goodness sake?!"

"Donna, one must never question one's muse," Jocasta tritely retorted.

With a resigned sigh, Donna brought up Google on her computer. "If you end up by writing a story that makes me into some sort of Vera Duckworth I'll kill you; more than likely with one of my Northern clogs," she muttered under her breath. "I'd get away with it too; extenuating circumstances and all that."

Jocasta merely chuckled to herself as the next plot twist whirled in her mind.

* * *

It had been almost three days since Donna had seen John, and the telephone hadn't rung once due to him calling. Her spirits were seriously flagging. Jocasta was beginning to get more than a little worried about her new friend and John… their promising romance was going west. "Still no word from him?"

"Who?" Donna tried to nonchalantly reply to her employer. She had no intention of admitting anything; especially how hurt she was that John Smith wasn't interested in the slightest in her after all. His first impression of her must have far outweighed his second and it was true, yet again, that she couldn't hold a man's interest. Her mother was completely right.

The downward mood swing was, however, noticed and filed away for future usage.

"Donna, dear, I need you to run a little errand for me," Jocasta began to request. "The book you've just typed up, I want one of my friends from the reading circle to look it over before I send it off to Stoddard Press. Do you think you could print a copy and take it over to her? I'd give you the remainder of the day off..."

If that wasn't a bribe, Donna didn't know what was! "Alright! I'll take a copy over to your mate's. Where has it got to go?"

"It's just a few miles outside the village; a little place called Hollow Farm. I'm told it's very hard to miss it," Jocasta encouraged her to go.

"I'd better get printing then," Donna commented, more to herself than anything. "Farm, did you say? Hmm. Have you got any Wellington boots I can borrow?"

"I keep my gumboots in the back porch. Why?" Jocasta openly wondered.

"Mud," Donna replied, "there's bound to be plenty of bloody mud, knowing the way my luck is going."

With that, she marched off, leaving Jocasta wondering if things would actually go in her favour.

* * *

John slouched out of the lounge and aimed for the kitchen door. "I'm just going to head up to the top field before getting back to that engine," he called out to his mother, and was surprised when she hastily rushed over to stop him disappearing out of the door.

"John, pet, do you think you could leave the engine for today? Your dad wanted a quick word," she told him.

"He did? Why didn't Dad say something at breakfast before he left? I'll see him in the top field anyway, so he can tell me there," John argued, and turned to go.

"Don't!" she insisted, and grabbed his arm. "You know how forgetful he is these days."

He sighed in agreement. "True; but he's already told me about our Ricky so what else is there to say?"

"Just come back and get cleaned up, please," she begged. "Take the time to get some of your paperwork sorted out or something, anything, but don't touch that engine until later."

"What are you up to?" he wondered suspiciously. "You'd better not have volunteered me for the Christmas play or something."

"Nothing like that," she quickly answered.

"But there is something going on," he pondered thoughtfully. "All I want to know is: will I be pleased?"

She beamed back at him in relief, knowing he'd make an effort now, just for her. "I hope so."

"Alright, I'll tackle some of my paperwork when I get back. Won't be long." And with that, he kissed her cheek and headed out the door.

Verity smiled to herself and got back to preparing her Christmas puddings.


	5. Chapter 5

**Part 5**

.

It was a grey overcast day by the time Donna packed her cargo of neatly stacked paper onto the front seat of her car and set off to Hollow Farm. Unfortunately the word 'farm' made her think of John, and she really didn't want to for the moment; she needed a distraction from his antics, or rather, lack of antics. So she picked a CD to listen to whilst the satnav was making its mind up to direct her journey.

"Turn left in four hundred yards," it stated eventually as her destination drew near.

Donna had no idea how far exactly that was to drive, but it couldn't be that much considering roadwork signs usually started at eight hundred yards away from all the cones.

One side of the lane she was driving down was bordered by a low hedge; the other side was a pretty, dry stone wall. As she slowed up she spotted the small wooden sign that proclaimed it was Hollow Farm. So far so good. It didn't take make effort to steer her car into the long driveway that led her up, over and sometimes sideways along some extremely bumpy and uneven ground towards a couple of farm buildings; one of which she expected to be the farmhouse. Ooh, pretty, she thought as she pulled up and parked in the dirt-covered farmyard behind a Land Rover that had been dismantled and was in bits by a barn. The hanging baskets around the farmhouse door, in particular, were a nice touch to add to the overall effect of country living, she thought.

Within seconds the main door opened and a woman of pensionable age emerged. Just the sort of woman she would have expected Jocasta to be friends with. "Hello! Am I in the right place to find Verity?" Donna called out from her quickly opened car window. Thank goodness for electric windows; saved your arm dropping off if nothing else.

"That's me," the woman warily confirmed, wiping her hands on her pinny. "Did Jocasta send you?"

"Yes, I've brought you some reading," Donna explained, wondering why Jocasta hadn't seemed to have called ahead; but she opened the car door and made to climb out anyway. "I..."

That was when she spotted him: John Smith. He was standing like a squirrel in its dad's coat, gawping at her in shock in the doorway to an open barn before rushing over to greet her equally stunned form.

"Donna?! What you doing here?" he immediately asked in shocked glee.

This could be tricky, and he had her cornered on her car seat. "Not a lot, to be honest. I'm delivering some papers and then heading back."

"But I...," he spluttered for some seconds, wanting to keep her there in order to explain himself, and then realised she was still seated in her car. "What's the problem? Can't you get out? Have you hurt your back or something?" His concern was all too evident.

Aiming to sound offhand, she answered, "Nothing like that; I've got a slight logistical problem." When he looked none the wiser, she added, "My wellies are in the boot and I need them to get across the mud."

Mud? They weren't exactly knee deep in the stuff; there was only a smattering across the yard. "Oh!" he exclaimed in understanding, looking down at her expensive shoes that matched her outfit beautifully. "I can help."

"Oh good," she sighed in relief when he traipsed towards the back of the car, and then watched him open the boot before retrieving something. He reappeared clutching a battered pair of green wellies. "They're the ones."

"Let me help," he offered, holding out a hand; so she took it, more than half expecting him to help her put the wellies on. She did not anticipate what happened instead! He bent, to place the boots down by her now bare feet, she thought. "Come, my lady," he said as she found herself being lifted up and held within his arms.

A squeal of protest immediately left her lips but it took some seconds before anything proper emerged. They'd gone a few steps towards the farmhouse by the time she found her voice and cried out, "What the bloody hell are you doing?"

"I'm escorting you into my home," he proudly stated, and carried her whilst he trudged through the rest of the mud and dirt. "I assume you wanted to go there."

Behind him, Verity rolled her eyes at his romantic hijinks and collected the papers, Donna's handbag and her precious shoes from the front of the car. Nobody ever made sure _she_ got across the mud okay, but she'd forgive him, just this once. Especially as he was looking so happy that this younger ginger woman had turned up seemingly out of the blue. Yes, she'd keep schtum about that one.

"Tea?" she offered as soon as she entered the kitchen, pushing passed the close-standing couple exchanging pleasantries to put the items down on a kitchen chair.

"Erm... Yes please," Donna answered with some embarrassment. Her bare toes wriggled coyly when John had put her down onto the kitchen rug. Despite him dropping her borrowed wellies by the door he hadn't let go of her waist yet, and she really didn't know what to make of this situation. Did he fancy her or not?!

Verity considered them as she filled the kettle with fresh cold water. John may be playing the gallant gentleman with this ginger woman but she knew he was clearly smitten. He wasn't exactly demonstrative with his affections, so this new development would be interesting to watch; and according to Jocasta, this Donna was probably just as taken with him. It had the potential to go far.

"Why don't you show Donna the farm office, John? Perhaps she will be able to give you a few tips on how to organise it," Verity suggested. "I'll do us a proper spread when you get back."

* * *

Using this opportunity to keep a tight hold of Donna's hand, John led her through part of the barn; into a cordoned off section with three wooden walls, filing cabinets, a noticeboard, and a desk full of clutter in what felt like a glorified shed.

"Oh my goodness! I see what your mum meant when she hinted you needed organising," Donna exclaimed as soon as they walked into the office. "This place is a mess."

John indignantly sniffed. "Chaos can mean an organised mind, you know."

"I've heard that said about desks, but you aren't trying to be creative here, are you? You're supposed to be running a business."

"Yes… well…" He stood forlorn before her. "I do my best."

"Oh John!" she cried out, and stepped forward to touch his arms in comfort. "I didn't mean to nag or criticise; it's just that I've been all sorts of offices. From the successful and efficient, to the downright disasters, and I know exactly what type I'm looking at here. You're having financial problems keeping this going. Am I right?"

He reluctantly nodded. "We may have to sell up at this rate," he admitted quietly. "I've tried subsidising it with lecturing at the local night school but…"

"It's alright," she immediately consoled him as his expression fell. "You don't have to say anymore. I can try to help you but I'm employed by Jocasta; she takes up an awful lot of my time."

"I understand, but it's nice of you to offer," he softly answered; his bottom lip quivering with repressed emotion. "Dad's an old man, Donna; he can't keep doing this for much longer. I have to face facts, and he's already said he's found a possible buyer for the place."

She gasped in sympathy. "Would you have to leave here?"

"I don't know. I'm hoping not, but if it came to it, I'd want to move them to a cottage near here and not force them into a town. They've never experienced it; it'd kill them," he glumly stated. "It was exciting for me when I went to university in the big city, all that history and culture to see in London…"

"You came to London?!" she interrupted, feeling unaccountably hurt that she didn't know at the time. "When did you do that?"

"A good fifteen years or so ago. Back when you were a teenager," he explained.

"Geroff! I was nothing of the sort! I was working for my first temping agency," she chided. "This is my third agency."

That brought to mind what Jack had said, and his personal vow to get to the bottom of it. "This agency, they send girls out, right?"

Yes," she cautiously answered. "Girls, boys, women and men; all sorts, who'd fit the job."

"Wh-what sorts of jobs are we talking about? Only… it's been suggested to me that you…" His courage suddenly disappeared.

"That I what…?" she encouraged him to continue, except her face sort of suggested she didn't want to know the possible answer.

"Ahh uhm," he began, blowing out his cheeks as he tried to figure out how to properly broach the subject. "And please don't take this the wrong way, but I really need to know before we go any further. Are you an escort or a lady of the night…? Call it what you will?"

There was an immediate, and resounding, SLAP!

"How DARE you!" She stood red-faced, glaring at him as he nursed his freshly struck cheek.

He couldn't have looked more stunned if he had tried. "What did you do that for?! I was only asking."

"Why d'you think, dumbo! It's not every day you offer to help a friend out and get accused of being a prostituting harlot for your efforts!" Donna didn't know whether to smack him one again or just cut her losses and leave. "Get out of my way!"

"So you're not…?" John weakly tried to confirm.

"No I bloody ain't!"

She tried to push passed him and storm out of the office, but he grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to look at him closely. "Donna, I am so sorry, but I only wanted to hear it from the horse's mouth that you are nothing of the sort. Please don't leave me," he begged, using the full kicked-puppy look. "I'd do anything to make this up to you; anything. All I wanted to do when I brought you in here was…"

Intrigued, she sarcastically wondered, "What were you going to do? Get me to type up a letter, were you? A quick bit of filing, or would that be too normal for someone who cavorts about in her underwear all day?"

Why did she have to give him such wonderful mental images to play with? Ones where Donna was being nearly naked. A nervous gulp preceded his next words. "As lovely as that all sounds, I… Oh bugger this!" And he lunged forward to kiss her hard on the mouth.

Her first instinct was to fight the smug bastard off; but he was far too gentle to keep that thought in her head, and those lips of his were softly insistent to put his point across before indignant anger reclaimed her mood.

"NO!" she yelled, and pushed him successfully away. A quick swipe of her sleeve soon got rid of his kiss from her mouth. "Do you really think forcing me to do that works? And to think I thought you were a decent bloke," she sneered at him. "Why am I even surprised? Of course a whore like me can be won over by you throwing yourself at me, because that's what us tarts do, isn't it; we just take your money and run after servicing you."

A swift knee to his groin had him crumpling like a broken deck chair to the floor in agony, and she loomed over him to dwell on her action with pride.

"Oh dear, my foot seems to have slipped." Turning on her heel, she stormed out and knocked on the farmhouse door.

Within seconds Verity opened it. "Is something the matter?" she instantly asked, worried that Donna was standing there alone.

"I've just come to ask for my shoes back, please, and to say sorry that I won't be staying for tea after all," Donna bit out.

Verity dutifully handed over the shoes. "Are you sure?"

"Very. It was nice meeting you," Donna retorted and then strode purposefully back to her car.

With a short wave to Verity, she reversed and then swiftly drove away, still wearing her wellie boots. However a minute later, in a nearby lane, she stopped the car and cried her heart out as she considered changing back into her shoes, not caring a jot about any mud that might have messed up her carpet.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** I wrestled to keep this within the usual rating.

* * *

**Part 6**

.

After a good two minutes of crying, Donna suddenly realised that she was approaching this from completely the wrong angle. Since when did she play the victim, for anybody?! No, bugger doing that. She had questions and she was going to get answers, even if she died in the attempt.

Shifting her Peugeot into gear, she executed a three-point turn in the narrow lane and headed determinedly back into the farm yard.

Everything looked as she had left it, so she squidged her way back across the mud to the farm building that held John's office, and marched right in. Half expecting it to be deserted, she was surprised to find him still cringing on the small brown leather sofa that sat in there; its previous occupation by a mound of papers shoved aside onto the floor to allow him to half recline on its comfort.

If he had been able to jerk up out of his seat he would have done. John had spent the intervening time berating himself and fending off his own bout of crying. Could he have been more stupid by frightening off Donna in that way? Seeing her reappear was rather wonderful and heartening. Did this mean he hadn't totally ballsed things up between them? If you pardoned the phrase. That part of his anatomy still hurt, stopping any sudden possible movements from him. Her storming in caused his heart to race wildly in his chest and he waited to find out what she would do next. As it is, he managed to look both pleased and terrified. "You're back! Donna, I feel sick," he declared, hoping it'd elicit some sympathy rather than a further attack.

"You would do," she agreed without much empathy, although she could feel the beginnings of the emotion starting to wash over her. 'Stay strong,' she told herself, 'hold onto the anger.' "I need to know," she continued, "why you think I'm some sort of tart. Is that why you didn't contact me?"

With a nod of his head he sheepishly replied, "In a way; but I got swamped under by some news Dad had. What with that and Jack saying he had arranged for you to come onto me, well..." He really didn't want to explain any more than that at the moment, especially if she was merely going to hit him again.

What news; and Jack? "Who the hell is Jack, and what has he got to do with me?!" she demanded.

The wince from him didn't go unnoticed as he remained in a defensive position.

"He _used_ to be my friend," John explained bitterly. "But he told me it would be fun to arrange an escort for me, and sort of... Actually he did more than that. The arse said it was you."

"Why the...!" Words failed Donna as she tried to get her head around this new development. "You tell him when I meet him he is dead! I'll kill him with my bare hands and then rip him into shreds to feed his pathetic body to the lions at London Zoo!" she fumed, scrunching her hands into fists.

The trouble was she didn't manage to hold onto her anger because she noticed he was still clutching himself protectively, obviously in pain still, judging by his soulful eyes. Such beautiful eyes that pierced her heart. All of her fire started to melt away as though it had never been.

"I'm sorry I ever believed him for a second," John began to apologise, in order to build bridges between them. "Not just because of the whole slapping and kneeing business, which I think you were right to do and be angry about despite me personally being the target, obviously, but before he opened his big mouth we, that's you and me, were getting on so well."

"We were," she confirmed as her anger completely ebbed away. "Why didn't you just phone me and ask?"

His eyes turned sadder as he looked up at her. "I wanted to ask you face to face, so that I'd know it was the truth when you said you weren't one of those women. I'm just some stupid sod who spends his days talking to sheep, so what do I know about talking to someone as beautiful as you? And Donna, I…," his voice petered out.

Oh sod it! Who was she kidding? She couldn't stay annoyed with him when he looked so pathetic and regretful. In one swift movement, she crouched down in front of him, and ignored the sudden look of terror that flashed on his face when she placed her hands on his knees. "What do I do to make it up to you?"

"You could kiss it better," he blurted out and then blushed. "I er… meant in general, and not my…" Now thoroughly embarrassed, he then stopped clutching himself to halt any further misunderstanding.

The daft bugger! How she stopped herself from laughing out loud at him she would never know. "A kiss?" she queried, and leaned in closer; pleased when he involuntarily sought to meet her halfway.

"It could work," he murmured as their lips hovered within millimetres of each other. "Please," he softly begged. Then he crossed that last gap to try again with a kiss that would capture her interest. "To say sorry."

"Sorry," she whispered, and landed on those tempting lips of his; especially that bottom one.

"So sorry," he echoed as he opened up to her. "Please forgive me."

They kissed tenderly for several seconds, breaking apart to draw breath and note with delight that they were wrapped around each other's body. Smiling his encouragement, John pulled backwards causing Donna to stay closer, so that she had to follow him onto the settee and almost land in his lap. Adjusting her legs over his own, he returned to enjoying her lips, smoothing his fingers over her cheek and then through her hair as his mind contemplated other places to explore later on. Time would tell if he would ever get the chance to do so again.

"I am so sorry I made you cry," he whispered into her ear as he kissed along her jawline.

"What made you think I cried?" she defensively asked. There was no way in hell that she'd admit that one.

He wisely let that one go. Did it really matter that he could see where her mascara had run when she'd obviously wiped her eyes? Instead, he felt guilty for upsetting her so; she hadn't deserved that at all. What she did deserve was a hug, so he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close to his chest, holding her there for several minutes.

"Watch it. At this rate I'll think you like me," Donna muttered self-consciously. It didn't stop her melting into his embrace; enjoying it thoroughly.

He sniffed a laugh. "Perhaps I do. Enough to want to take you out tomorrow night, if you'd let me."

"I'd like that," she shyly agreed.

Delighted by her response, he pressed his mouth onto her lips again, feeling a warmth spread through his body as they shared open-mouthed kisses that were slowly building in passion. His earlier pain now forgotten, all his body wanted to do was scream at him to make love to her at the first opportunity.

"God, you're sexy," he breathily uttered.

"I'm surprised you can think such a thing, considering what I did to you. Does it still hurt?" she enquired. Inevitably her hand smoothed down from his shoulders, over his chest and stomach, to end up on the front of his trousers. "Oh! Well at least it's in full working order," she remarked with embarrassment.

An amorous groan escaped his lips; and he clamped a hand over hers to keep it where it was. "Very. Now do you believe me?" He huffed out a few breaths, and then tightly told her, "I think we'd better go and have this tea with Mum before I try to ravish you."

"Perhaps we should." Donna then giggled nervously.

* * *

Verity had come out of the farmhouse, wondering where John had got to and needing to know he was alright, when she spotted the little blue Peugeot sitting back in their farm yard. What on earth had happened? Expecting fireworks of some sort, she sneaked up to the grimy window of the farm office and peeked in.

Oh my! She brought up a hand to cover her mouth in shock.

Inside were two blurs moving over each other on the small settee, obviously kissing each other fervently. Fortunately the view wasn't clearer than that; so Verity quickly walked away to phone Jocasta with the good news.

* * *

"Hello, pet," Verity greeted the sight of John when he stepped in through the kitchen door. "No Donna with you?"

He hastily smoothed down his hair, only for it to leap back up again. "Oh erm… no. She said sorry, by the way; she had to get back."

Verity hid a smile at his distracted demise. If Donna was as dishevelled as he looked no wonder she didn't want to go back into the farmhouse. "Never mind. Perhaps another day. I'll make us some tea and then you can get that engine fixed up."

"I'd clean forgotten about that," he admitted. "I won't be able to go anywhere if I don't."

Verity tsked at his forgetfulness, and wondered if she ought to tell Jocasta about this snippet too.

* * *

It had been arranged to meet up the following night, with the possibility of seeing this infamous Jack, and Donna could hardly wait to tear a piece out of him; slimey git! Thinking of him only made her want to throttle someone, and she had other things to worry about. Like what to what to tell Jocasta about her trip. There had been an overly keen interest to know when Donna had returned back to Lilac Cottage. Goodness knew why. Except there was more than a possibility Jocasta's interest had to do with a certain book she was planning to write. There had been much fencing off questions about details.

Anyway, Donna thought she had finally satisfied Jocasta's curiosity by the time John had phoned her after taking his evening class. They'd had a lovely long chat, talking about this and that; nothing world shattering or insightful. Just your normal babble between two people who thought they might be overheard.

As it happened they were correct, because Jocasta was trying to surreptitiously earwig their conversation. Such situations require shortcuts and special codes to retain privacy and cause confusion.

A few hours into her working day Donna was typing away from her notes, trying to not laugh at the stupidity of Meredith Forsythe when encountering Barnaby Pemberton. "Good grief, girl! Have some dignity," she mumbled as she finished a paragraph. That was when her mobile phone rang, so she absently answered it without thinking to check who was calling her.

"Hello, Donna," a very smooth and educated male voice greeted her.

It couldn't be him, it just couldn't! She almost dropped the phone in shock. "What… what do you want?" she asked after some seconds.

"Why, I wanted you, Donna," he easily answered. "I was surprised you disappeared into the ether in the way you did."

"Oh did you?!" she wanted to rant. "How unlike you to be surprised by my behaviour. Look, I'm very busy and you are disturbing me from carrying out my duties. Why don't you go and bother someone else. Ooh, I don't know, maybe someone who actually works for you would be a start."

"That is part of my reason for contacting you," he continued their conversation without a hint of apology.

"What do you mean?" she inevitably asked.

"I need you, Donna."

Her heart threatened to thump its way out of her chest. "You need me?" You could have struck her down with a feather.

There was an indrawn breath. "It pains me to say this, but yes."

How long had she waited for him to say these words? Far too long, and the prick could still get to her. "You'd better run the idea passed your secretary for approval then, as I know she has the final say with these things. Goodbye."

She was feeling quite pleased with herself by the time she ended the call; especially because he was frantically calling out her name. Yeah, make him wait.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** it really helps if you have seen some of DT's recent projects when you read this, but not vital.

* * *

**Part 7**

.

A floorboard creepily creaking outside the doorway and then the sound of Jocasta's voice made Donna almost jump out of her skin in fright. It was the sort of thing he used to do. "Is everything alright, Donna? I thought I heard raised voices." She then noted Donna was clutching herself in fear and moved nearer, into the office, to offer some moral support.

"Sorry, Jocasta. It was only me on the phone to…" Then to her absolute horror, she burst into tears.

"Donna, dear, what is it?" Jocasta burst forward to place a consoling hand on Donna's shoulder and then passed her a tissue from a box that sat on a shelf. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Not really," Donna admitted as she sniffed back her tears, hating the fact this had happened. "I'm just shocked that he has bothered to contact me after all this time."

"John?" Jocasta guessed. "But I thought you had already spoken to him."

"No, it was my ex-boss who called. Oh god, I am so _stupid_!" Donna berated herself and then dabbed at her eyes. "Why do I let him get to me, every time? Let's not talk about him. He is a first class arse."

"What did he do to you?" Jocasta asked kindly.

"Nothing much." Donna sarcastically dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "Only brought in some young blonde who couldn't find the first letter of her name on a keyboard, made me spend every waking moment training her up, chucked me out of his office, took her into his bed, and then gave her my job." There was a fervent blowing of the nose. "Not much at all really, the swine! And he has the cheek to phone me up out of the blue and claim he needs me. I ask you; what sort of bloke does that?!"

Jocasta pursed her lips in disapproval. "The worse sort."

Donna shook her head in disbelief. "He's an out and out bastard! To think I was in love him. Me?! I needed my bloody head examining."

"Perhaps you could distract yourself by contacting John…" Jocasta stopped speaking when Donna set a withering look on her.

"That'd do me no good because he has business meetings with the bank and that today." She sighed and searched around for her handbag. Grabbing it up, she declared, "I'm going out for a walk, to clear my head. Is there anything you want from the village shop?"

"Perhaps a nice cake or bun to have with our lunch," Jocasta suggested for something to say.

"Yeah, something huge, gooey and chocolate," Donna remarked, somewhat weepily. "I can eat what I bloody like now." When Jocasta frowned at her in confusion, she added, "_He_ would disapprove of me even touching a piece of chocolate, and look down that haughty nose of his at me. Well, he can swivel on it for all I care!"

The only thing Jocasta could do was gape as Donna huffed away, determined to buy something heavily laden with calories.

* * *

The village shop wasn't too far away from Lilac Cottage, but it was the first time since she had been there that Donna had properly ventured into the shop. Of course she had gone in there on her first day, just to get her bearings in the village and have a nose around, like you do. She decided to divert her thoughts onto what she could possibly say to Jack when she hopefully got to see him that evening. John had said he'd arranged to meet him, and she could hardly wait. What part of Jack should she attack first? Her imagination had fun running riot with that one.

It was quite a pleasant, sunny day as she headed across towards the village green; and she idly wondered what it would look like full of some local men playing a game of cricket in their cricketing whites. She wasn't fond of cricket, but she rather liked the traditional sportswear they wore for the game. Give her a decent game of football any day of the week if she was going to be forced to sit through something. For a start, it ended a lot quicker, and the blokes were more buff; not that she was shallow enough to only care about the visuals. She'd had many a happy trip with Gramps to a game at Upton Park where West Ham United play at home.

As she neared the small building that housed the village shop a large Range Rover was parked outside on the opposite side of the road, and Donna had to peep around it to check there was nothing coming. Feeling fairly confident the coast was clear after two cars and a van, she stepped out, only to be tooted by a large black Mercedes that narrowly missed hitting her.

"Look where you're going, you stupid prat! Other people use the road," she shouted out.

The car instantly screeched to a halt, and a rear window wheezed its way down as it fully opened. Expecting be have abuse hurled at her, Donna readied herself to go on the defensive. Instead an extremely familiar head peered out at her.

"Ah, there you are," he stated, rather calmly given the circumstances.

Donna just stood there stunned for some seconds. It was him! He must have phoned her whilst travelling in this car. "Roderick?! What on earth are you doing here?" she blurted out her questions.

"I'm here on business," Roderick succinctly told her, and eyed her up and down. "Why are you here?"

"I was just going to the shop," she stated, pointing towards the shop in front of her.

"Oh yes, I'd forgotten it was there," he remarked to himself. He then tapped the driver of the Mercedes on the shoulder. "Pull over there for a moment please, William."

"Yes, sir," the driver replied, and the car moved slowly and smoothly into a better stopping position. "Is there anything else?"

"Wait for me," Roderick ordered, and began to climb out to meet Donna.

Roderick Peterson was a tall, lithe, unconventionally handsome man who did everything smoothly and efficiently. Usually he wore all black, and today was no different. Underneath his tailored jacket he wore a polo neck jumper that was supposed to give him an air of casualness but merely highlighted his austerity. To add to the effect, he wore black horn-rimmed glasses and had his dark brown hair Brylcreamed back out of harm's way. 'Slick' was a word many used to describe him but he would have much preferred to be called 'superior'; that suited him far better in his mind.

Before him stood Donna Noble, his ex-employee, once trusted friend and confidante. Not that it had been an easy decision to get rid of her from his employ; she had been an extremely good worker, he had to admit. Many the time he had called upon her to work extra hours in order to help him out with some project or other as he planned his latest tour. Music was his life, and he took it very seriously; insisting on many hours of continuous practise from his choristers.

Next on the cards was an entirely different project for him to consider, and the skills Donna had shown in the past would be extremely useful to him, if he could only lure her into assisting him again. One thing you could say in Donna's favour, she always was well presented, in both looks and style. His father had once remarked that she was a valued asset to the company, and he had soon discovered during her absence that this was true, despite him not wanting to admit the veracity of this. A lesser man would have been ashamed of using her obvious crush on him to his advantage, but Roderick was only focused on his career; nothing else mattered in comparison. He had to be successful and top dog, there was no other option, and it didn't matter who he stepped on to get there. That was what he had been taught, and that was how he lived his life. Every last second of it. It had brought him a great deal of success in his chosen field; a success he was determined to hang on to.

Things could have gone further with Donna, there was an undeniable quality about her that attracted him immensely, but it would have distracted him away from his life goals. There was no way she could be a mere affair; instead she was the type of woman you invested in body and soul whereas the delightfully flirty Daisy was a dalliance that filled the odd spare moment. It was convenient, and that was what concerned him, since it required no investment from him personally.

Watching Roderick almost glide across the road towards her, Donna was struck by the usual pangs of regret that she normally felt when she saw him; but this time it was different. Her feelings for him had lessened quite a lot, to her surprise and delight. There was still an animalistic sexuality to his fluid movements that she could appreciate, but their power over her had decreased dramatically.

"Hello Rod," she deliberately greeted him as he got near enough to speak easily to in private. "How are you?"

"It's Roderick," he reminded her as anger flashed momentarily in his eyes. He may do menacing but he never indulged in angry tantrums. "I trust you are well?"

"Yes, very," she politely replied, and then waited to see where he would steer the conversation he so obviously wanted.

He merely peered imperially at her. "I have need of your skills, Donna, and would like to offer you some employment."

'How charming,' she thought sarcastically. "Sorry, but I am already working for someone."

A heavy frown instantly appeared on his face as he glared unblinkingly at her. "Who? I'm sure we could come to some arrangement," he silkily suggested.

"Look, Rodders, I cannot work for you. I have signed a contract and everything, so you'll just have to look for someone else. Someone like… ooh, I dunno… Daisy, perhaps?" she impishly wondered.

There was a slight flaring of his nostrils to indicate he was not pleased so far. "Daisy has limited talents, as you know full well; and she has remained in London," he almost flatly stated.

'Bully for her,' Donna whined in her head. "Yes, extremely limited in some departments. Shame she couldn't join your little jamboree, Rodders."

"It is Roderick," he pithily restated.

Ooh, she liked riling him in this way. It was fun! "That's what I said. You get far too uptight about your name. I know; you should go and relax somewhere! How does that sound? Take that stick out of your..."

"Donna!" he warned. "I'll take my leave. Perhaps you will change your mind later. You know how to contact me." Roderick turned then and walked swiftly back to his car.

"I wouldn't count on it," she mumbled to herself, and crossed over the pavement to enter the shop, uncaring whether his car had left or not.

* * *

John returned from checking up on their flock of sheep and entered the farmhouse, absolutely dreading this business meeting. It could prove to be the end of their time on the farm for ever, and he knew how that would shatter his father's dreams. As for himself, he was sure he would be able to find something to occupy his time over the coming years; the college had already hinted that they would like him to work more hours, and that was the silver lining to all this mess. Whether he actually wanted to become a fulltime lecturer was another matter. But when needs must you do your duty; that had long been his dad's mantra.

"Hurry up, John," Verity fussed around him, "we need to get going. Have you got your clean shirt?"

"Yes, Mum," he answered, and pointed to where it lay. "I won't be too long cleaning up, I promise."

"Don't be," his father chimed in as he adjusted his tie. "They won't wait for us."

"It would be hard for them to do anything without us," John muttered under his breath, but fortunately his dad didn't hear him. Good. Things would only have got worse if he had.

"Welcome, Mr Smith," the solicitor greeted them by shaking John's hand. "Are these your parents?"

"Yes, this is Dad, Sydney Smith; and Mum, Verity Smith," John made the introductions. "I'm John, but you might already know that, Mr Warner. Has our Ricky turned up yet?"

"He contacted our office to say he has been slightly delayed but should be with us presently. While you wait would you like a tea or coffee?" Mr Warner offered them all, and called out to the nearest office worker to supply three fresh teas.

They generally chitchatted for the next ten minutes as they sipped their tea and waited anxiously for John's cousin Ricky to arrive. It was fairly obvious when he did, because there was a general clamour from outside the office, a hubbub of excited voices, and then he strode in looking quite refreshed. Immediately he greeted Verity with a kiss on the cheek, and shook the hand of first Sydney and then John before shaking Mr Warner's. "Hello, I'm Roderick Peterson; you must be Simon Warner," he greeted the solicitor.

* * *

**A/N2:** just in case you are not sure, Roderick Peterson is the choir leader featured in the film "Nativity 2: Danger In The Manger"


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** it really helps if you have seen Nativity 2: Danger In A Manger, but not vital.

* * *

**Part 8**

.

Simon Warner seemed quite flustered by being greeted by _the_ Roderick Peterson from off the telly. He had never met such a well-known celebrity before, even if he was a minor one. "Yes, I am he," he confirmed. "Would you like some tea?"

"No thank you," Roderick dismissed the request. "Let's get down to business."

"Oh! Of course," Simon replied in surprise. Roderick was proving to be all that he had expected. The man seemed like a hard task master. "We have a great deal to get through today."

Roderick did his best to smile whimsically at him. In reality he wanted to shake the stupid little man into doing something sensible, but he knew staying calm was much more important. "Good," he merely answered. "I don't want to inconvenience my aunt, uncle and cousin too much."

Verity merely glared at her nephew. He had always been a jumped up little pipsqueak, even as a small child and he had continued to be one throughout his adult life. And now, to think that he would be buying their farm and probably turfing them out was beyond endurance. "You surprise me, pet," she snidely commented.

Roderick turned his gaze onto her, steeling himself to say the words. "Aunt Verity, I want to invest in your hill farm. It needs some decent management, and I know that Uncle Sydney and John have tried hard all these years to keep it going, but grandfather would not have liked the way it has fallen into decay."

"Now look here…!" Sydney loudly protested, but Simon held up a quietening hand in a patronising manner that irked Sydney. "Just because you've had a fancy education down in London don't mean you know what you are doing," he continued.

This did not have the desired effect. "John had a similar education to me, Uncle Sydney," Roderick pointed out, "and he has not managed to turn things successfully around. Perhaps it is time for me to try?"

"You think a music degree will be enough to qualify you?" John bitterly spat out.

"No," Roderick suavely replied, "but as you know, further education prepares you for so much more, and I have run other profitable businesses."

"Then good luck with it, because I don't know anyone who has run a hill farm without having to subsidise it elsewhere," John retorted, and glumly sat back in his chair.

"Fortunately I have the means, the time and the funds to keep Hollow Farm alive and run it according to our grandfather's plans," Roderick haughtily stated. "Now if we could talk business rather than fuss over emotive subjects we might be able to get somewhere." He signalled to Simon bring out the necessary paperwork to start the process of him gaining the farm.

Verity felt her hackles rise as the moment of doom arrived. "It's all well and good you taking over, Ricky; but what about us? Is there any room for us in this plan of yours?" she queried. "Or is family just an 'emotive subject' to you?"

"I don't plan to live there, Aunt Verity, so I see no reason why you can't stay in some capacity." Roderick thoughtfully considered his aunt.

"If your mother could see you now," Verity remarked. "She and Dad would be shocked by your attitude."

"Mum, don't," John tried to halt her hurt words.

"This is business, Aunt Verity," Roderick calmly stated as he pushed the paperwork towards her to sign. "At least I am keeping it within the family."

"Yes, but at what cost," she retorted through gritted teeth. "What will happen when John marries? He'll have nothing to offer."

John groaned loudly in exasperation as Roderick considered him.

"Fortunately we may never have to worry about such a thing. John is as confirmed a bachelor as I am."

"That's where you're wrong," Verity triumphantly crowed as John tried to quieten her again. "John has got himself a lady friend now."

"Do you, John?" Roderick imperiously asked.

Unexpectedly finding himself on the spot, John coyly spluttered, "Well…" As usual, words failed him when a voice was needed. Why was he allowing himself to be intimidated by this situation? This was only their Ricky after all.

"This is news to me," Sydney suddenly added in, clearly puzzled as though he had just woken up. "When did this happen?"

"When you were asleep in the chair, as usual," Verity grumbled.

Both John and Roderick smirked in clear amusement and shared a knowing glance.

Once again Verity was struck how similar the pair of them were at times, but in temperament they were two sides of the same coin. Perhaps being in more contact with John would do Roderick good? Lord knew he needed someone to lighten him up since his father had taken sole control of him after her sister's death. The boys had never spent enough time together despite having overlapping interests.

All the papers dutifully signed, they looked at each other expectantly.

"You should come home with us for dinner," Verity announced in Roderick's direction.

He looked genuinely surprised with being given the invite. In truth he was, since he had expected to be practically disowned by these last members of his extended family. It made sense to do this civilly. "I would love to, but if you mean this evening I'm afraid I have business appointments that cannot be cancelled. Would tomorrow do? I don't have to travel back to London until tomorrow night."

"Of course I meant tonight, but tomorrow will be fine," Verity confirmed. She noted her son squirming to the side of her. "John, what is the problem?!"

"I erm... I have a date," he reluctantly supplied. All he could think was he'd better not have to cancel it due to Ricky hanging around to spread his special blend of know-it-all-ism.

His mother smugly commented, "Ricky coming to dinner won't get in the way of that."

"It's Roderick," he interjected. "I don't use the name Ricky anymore."

"Why? What's wrong with it?!" Verity glared at him again. "It's what your mother wanted it to be."

"I... Fine, you can call me Ricky," he relented in exasperation. The whole thing was obviously futile, so why fight it? "Will we get to see this lady friend of yours, John?"

As John shook his head, Sydney piped up with, "Invite her along too. I'd like to meet her myself."

"Why would such a woman want to see you? We'll be discussing business and family matters," Verity said, partly to mock him.

John sighed. They really did need to talk through the details together which ruled out seeing Donna after all; unless he could slink out and secretly do so.

Roderick found himself in the rare situation of pitying someone; namely his cousin. John and he had been such good friends as small children, almost like brothers in their own little world, until his mother had died, of course, and he'd been sent away to school to never return properly to these people who counted as family. But part of him still liked John immensely, and felt guilty at how tired and drawn John looked. It couldn't have been easy for him soldiering on for all these years against the inevitable. What had happened to the boy who had dreamed of being an astronaut leading the first expedition to Mars?

"We could all go to a restaurant, if you like. It would be my treat, I insist. And this mysterious lady friend of John's could come too. It might work in your favour if she meets me," Roderick offered, adding what he hoped was a warm smile.

"You'd pay?" John asked in surprise, and accidentally missed the implied boast that Donna would be impressed. "Then you're on. You book it all and I'll make sure she is there." He knew this trumped any boast Ricky may have because there had always been an unspoken rivalry between them; and Ricky may have bags of money but he had never held the interest of a woman for long. There had been vague rumours from his uncle about a possible candidate, but as usual Ricky was lucky in business and unlucky in love. Well, there had to be some consolation from this train wreck of a deal!

To top it all, Roderick was already scrolling through possible restaurants on his phone and was about to call one up to book a table. This could be interesting in all sorts of ways.

* * *

Donna had got up to have a break and put the kettle on for a late afternoon cup of tea when her mobile phone rang. This time she was sensible enough to double check first before she answered it, and smiled with glee when she saw who it was. "Hello John! I wasn't expecting to hear from you yet."

"Hello pet! We finished earlier than I anticipated. There's been a slight change of plan for tonight; sorry to disappoint you," John began to tell her his news.

"Why? What's gone wrong," she anxiously wondered.

"It's er…," he paused for breath. "Jack can't make it so it's just me to entertain you."

"Never mind," she commented, annoyed she wouldn't be able to give him a piece of her mind yet. "You don't sound so great. Did it go alright today?"

"Depends how you look at it. The bank gave us the usual dismal figures," he admitted, somewhat glumly. "The solicitor has dealt with all the basic paperwork so the sale process can begin." He then anxiously rubbed his eye. "But we're all going out for dinner tomorrow night, and that includes you."

"Who exactly is 'we'?" she wondered. "And what sort of place would we be eating in?" Her mind raced through all the possible outfits she had available hanging in her wardrobe.

"It's me, you, Mum, Dad and my cousin Ricky. He seems really keen to meet you for some reason," he lightly teased. "And he is paying, so you can eat whatever you like."

That shocked her. "Why?"

"Because he is loaded and treating us for once. It is a rare sight, so I'm making the most of it," John confided. "He has booked us into the Blue Peacock Restaurant. I've heard of it but never been there, since it costs an arm and a leg, and I'm not…" There was a pause as he considered admitting how strapped for cash he was. "Anyway, I'll pick you up about a quarter past six, if that's alright?"

She quickly looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. "Quarter past six?! That doesn't give a lot of time!" she screeched.

"To do what?" he queried. "How long does it take to wash and change?"

"In case you haven't noticed, us non-sheep take a bit longer to get ready," she huffed. "Although I can image you poncing about in front of a mirror for half an hour."

How did she know that was exactly what he had done? "ME?! I'm coming as I am," he indignantly retorted, and unconsciously adjusted his tie. "I'm already in my best suit."

"In a suit, eh?" Now that was a mental image she was very keen to see in real life. "Go on. Off with you. And I'll see you after six."

John giggled with delight before ending the call, and Donna almost hugged her phone to her chest. That is until she realised how this suddenly sounded. "Blimey! I'm meeting his family already," she said to herself in awe. "This is beginning to sound serious."

She shook herself out of that daunting thought and made the tea.

Having called to Jocasta that tea was on the go, her phone rang again just as she was about to sip some. Snatching up her phone, she purred, "Hello again, you!"

"Hello again, Donna," said the cultured voice she didn't want to hear.

"Wh-what do you want, Roderick?" she stammered out her question.

"I am phoning to ask if you would care to join me for dinner tomorrow night," Roderick smoothly wondered.

"Oh! I…" Shock took away her answer but she was surprised to feel no regret; none whatsoever. "Sorry, but I've already made arrangements to go out tomorrow," she answered far more politely then she would have intended. Bugger! She should have rubbed that in his face.

"Perhaps another time?" he coolly suggested.

"Yeah, perhaps," she vaguely replied. 'When hell freezes over,' she mentally added.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** sorry for the delay in updating this.

* * *

**Part 9**

.

When Donna opened Jocasta's front door just after six o'clock she was confused to John standing there under the glow of Jocasta's porch light in his previous dark coat, black jeans and dark grey jumper ensemble. "What happened to the suit?" she wondered.

"Mum made me take it off; said it's for best and I have to keep it for tomorrow night," he grumpily explained. "Anyone would think I'm a bloody child with the way she carries on."

"Aren't mums supposed to do that?" she teased, and then placed a consoling kiss on his cheek.

"Is that all I get?" he asked as he stepped inside the cottage and looked around the living room with great curiosity. It was just as he'd expected: ornate, expensive looking and like some photo-shoot out of a magazine like House Beautiful. Not that he tended to look at such things unless he was forced to; like when waiting at the dentist's.

"Well… this _is_ our first official date," she argued.

He immediately managed to huff a laugh. "I suppose it is." Funnily enough, he felt as nervous as though it was their very first date too. So many questions buzzed around in his head. Things like: what would be the best place to take her, would he bore her to tears, was there going to be any chance of continuing what they had started the day before? That last one in particular had played endlessly in his mind when he'd been alone in the intervening hours. Not that he was going to own up to that fact in a hurry.

Feeling the awkwardness that had suddenly fallen upon them, Donna thought to ask, "Did you want some tea before we do anything?"

John hurriedly nodded. "Yes, tea would be nice." It seemed a logical thing to do in the circumstances. It also meant that he had to follow Donna into the kitchen, which he did willingly. Watching her bustle about filling the kettle, getting out mugs and hunting for the milk was an unexpected pleasure, and he settled himself by leaning against a kitchen worktop in order to do so.

She could feel his eyes observing every movement, and wondered why he never seemed to say very much but tended to fill in information in short rapid bursts. It would take a bit of getting used to but she was sure she could. "Do you take sugar?" she asked as the kettle began to boil.

"No thanks," he replied, and edged nearer. "I was erm… the thing is, I'm not sure where you'd like to go tonight," he stammered.

Aw, he looked so sweet and adorable as he gazed expectantly at her, and Donna felt herself melt. "I don't mind. What do you fancy doing?"

Ooh, now that was a leading question! "I er…" Lowering his gaze meant that he was peering right at the buttons of her blouse and that enticing cleavage underneath. When she shifted a little bit he was sure he could catch a glimpse of the fine lace edging her bra, and that was a very exciting thought.

What on earth was he playing at? Couldn't he keep his eyes out of her cleavage for five seconds?! Bloody typical. "I'm up here, John."

The sound of her voice brought him out of his revelry, and he blushed at being caught fantasying about her body. It was an extremely lovely body, in his opinion, that needed some careful attention from him; attention that involved kissing every visible freckle for starters.

"Sorry. It's just that… that is a very nice blouse you are wearing," he blustered, and allowed his gaze to sweep down her body. "Your whole outfit is… You look lovely." He really hoped that he sounded sincere rather than sleazy to her ears.

"Thanks," she tightly answered as she realised Jocasta was standing in the doorway. "Hello Jocasta. Would you like to join us for tea?"

Rats, she'd been noticed! And just when their flirting had become useful. "Yes please, dear," Jocasta replied and entered the kitchen properly. "How are you, John?"

"Fine thanks," he politely answered. "And yourself?"

"The usual aches and pains," she responded and took the offered cup of tea from Donna's hands. "Are you two going anywhere nice?"

"We were just trying to decide that," admitted Donna as she took a healthy gulp of her own tea and gazed at John as he finished off drinking his own cup.

The phone went off in John's pocket. There was a frantic search for it before he peered at the screen to answer the ringing mobile, clearly puzzled that it had. "Hello, Dad. What's the problem? Okay, I'll do that, don't worry. Speak to you later. Bye."

"Anything the matter?" Donna immediately asked.

John sighed. "It was Dad being worried he left the door open in the barn in the top field. The latch was acting up, he says. Do you…" There was some anxious scratching of his head. "Do you mind if we go up there and make sure everything is okay?"

"Of course I don't," she readily agreed.

"You'd better take my gumboots again," Jocasta advised. "It might be muddy."

"And we can't have you walking across the mud," John deliberately smirked in Donna's direction.

In reply, she playfully pushed at his chest. "Give over, you! You'll have your own problems in that getup."

"I've come prepared." A smug grin appeared on his face.

"I bet you say that to all the girls," she retorted. "Come on then, farmer John. Let's go and check on this barn of yours. I'll see you later, Jocasta."

"Have fun," Jocasta called out to them as they both walked away; her mind was already half on the notes she wanted to quickly write down for her next book. The pair of them had provided plenty of information to dally with. Deliciously so.

* * *

The lane they drove down was pitch black, and the main beam of the Land Rover they sat in illuminated lots of grass on the edge of the road and not a great deal more. Every now and then a tree loomed out of the gloom or some small creature with luminous eyes like something out of a horror film.

The whole experience was more than a little frightening for Donna, so she kept up a constant tale to fill the silence and pretend that everything was perfectly normal. Why couldn't they have street lights and buildings and people, like normal places?

"…So I said to Alice, 'Why did he do that?' and she just shrugged. I think he might be gay, if I'm honest," Donna waffled on, and turned her attention to John's profile in the subtle light given off by the dashboard and reflected back by the landscape. She was pleased to note that he was dividing his attention between driving and looking at her with a distinct smile on his face. At least he had cheered up considerably since their phone call. "You don't say much, do you?" she couldn't help commenting.

The expression on his face went thoughtful. "I suppose I don't. Sorry. Sheep don't tend to answer back, no matter what you try to discuss, so I don't get much conversation as a rule."

"But you must talk when you are lecturing at the college," she reasoned. "You wouldn't be able to do that without opening your mouth."

"That's different," he countered. "My students want to hear what I have to say; I'm passing on knowledge."

"I don't see the difference," she admitted. "Talking is talking, surely."

A chuckle escaped his lips. "No, it isn't, I assure you. When it comes to small talk, I just can't do it."

She leant across and kissed his cheek, pleasantly surprising him. "Honestly, you are doing fine. All you need is a bit of practice."

"I get the feeling that I'll get plenty of that with you."

"Are you saying I do nothing but talk?" she questioned.

"No," he hurriedly answered, and wondered why she then laughed.

"That makes a change because I've often been called a chatterbox. Always got into trouble in school for talking," she confessed. "I was forever being told to keep quiet."

"I had the opposite; got told off for not speaking up," he declared. "You just can't win."

As they giggled together at their opposing problem, she felt the need to reach out and caress his shoulder, offering comfort and acceptance. "Don't worry; I'll do the talking for the pair of us."

It completely coincided with him stopping the vehicle. "I like the sound of that," he breathily replied. "We're here. The barn is on the left." He pointed towards a large black object in the generally dark and windy landscape.

She turned her head to peer out of the window, not quite seeing it. "Oh yeah," she pretended to agree.

When she turned back he had eased himself across the small space to be within millimetres away. It didn't take make effort to lean into the kiss he offered. Soft touches of cold lips that gradually warmed up.

The strong wind outside suddenly buffeted the car; causing them to stop and stare out the window for a moment.

"I really don't fancy going out in this to check that latch," he murmured. "Oh, I know!" he suddenly cried as an idea hit him. This was followed by him frantically fumbling in the glove compartment before he triumphantly held up a pair of binoculars. "I knew these were in there. Right, let's have a look." Placing them in front of his eyes, he took care to adjust the focal length as he gazed out of the car windscreen. "Ah huh! That's got it. Nice close up of the drain pipe into the water butt... And there is the latch, safely closed. Good! I don't need to set foot out on the mud at all."

"So you can keep those jeans of yours clean," she commented.

"And the rest of me," he agreed with a pleased smirk. "Although you might be more pleased that I won't get frozen."

"How would that affect me?" she wondered. "I'm not that altruistic."

"Maybe, but I think you'd care if I put my freezing cold hands on you."

"Getting a bit ahead of yourself, Sunshine," she admonished him; and then noticed his guilty glance as he hastily shoved the binoculars back into the glove box. "What are you hiding?"

"Nothing!" he instantly and inevitably replied.

"Prove it," she dared him, and opened up the compartment. "Oh!" Inside was a small packet of condoms.

John looked adorably sweet as he hid his embarrassed face, she decided. Who was she to criticise him after their snogging session the day before and their obvious mutual attraction? It was quite logical in the circumstances. At least he was making some effort to be prepared; so she deliberately kissed first his cheek and then his lips.

After some seconds, he pulled away, and told her, "I have a nice surprise for you when I turn the lights off."

"What's that…?" she began to ask, but he turned the dial and they were plunged into absolute darkness.

Hearing her gasp, he instantly took hold of her hand and whispered, "Look at that."

"Oh wow!" The constellations in the clear sky had never been so vivid, and she eagerly scoured the view to take in as much as possible. "Gramps would love this."

"I was hoping you'd like it."

"Like it? I love it!" she proclaimed, and threw herself on him. "Thank you."

He let her kiss him in gratitude, and considered his next move in the time it took to adjust to the darkness.

As they sat staring at the stars, John rested his head next to Donna's and remarked as casually as he could, "I'd have said that technically this is our fourth date."

"How did you make it four; and isn't the fourth date when things get heated?" she openly questioned, and then blushed. "Not that I'm suggesting, or anything."

A waggle of eyebrows made her swat his arm.

"Technically it's four," he argued, and brought up a hand to count them on his fingers, "because the first one was when I sat in your car with you. The second was our meeting in the pub. The third one was our… shall we say… little tête-à-tête in my office; and number four is today."

"Ah, yes, the tête-à-tête," she remarked as the vivid memories of their embrace came to mind; their very heated and veering into dangerous territory embrace. "I'd have argued it was three at the most."

His hand rested on her hip, rubbing small circles with his thumb, egging her on; so she lunged at him, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. Then he kissed back more sensually, holding her close whilst running his hands over her body. As their open mouthed kisses deepened into tasting and sliding tongues together, his hands eased their way under the bottom hem of her blouse, to smooth across her soft skin. It wasn't as though her hands were idle, because the bottom buttons of his shirt were undone and the shirt pulled out from being confined beneath the belt of his jeans. Her hands explored the hair on his surprising well-toned chest, his shoulders, his back, and downwards to below his belt and on to his firm bottom.

The only sound within the car was wet lips smacking together, drawn in breaths, sighs, moans and groans as they clasped each other tighter. Should he take this further? Any question of ceasing completely disappeared from his head when he felt her fingers caress him. Oh yes, oh yes! He really wanted this!

Using his best seductive voice, he whispered into her ear, "The rear seats fully recline in this, did you know? Let me demonstrate... while we get comfortable."

Normal speech wasn't needed for quite a while after that.

* * *

**A/N2:** you probably won't be surprised to learn that I had to fight off the inclination to write a full sex scene here.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** sorry; I couldn't resist a sex scene after all (although I _have_ edited it). Just skip to the second section if you want to avoid it.

* * *

**Part 10**

.

Could life ever get better than this feeling?

Donna was unaware of the travelling blanket on her bare back, covering them both within a warm cocoon. Normally she would have been acutely conscious of its itchiness but instead she ran her hands over the chest of the naked man below her as she straddled his hips, loving the feel of his taut muscles beneath her fingertips, his warm skin with its fine covering of dark hairs; leading up to that long neck of his. Giving into her impulse, she leant forward and licked a path up his throat before using her tongue to kiss and then suckle on his flesh. Oh how she loved his neck; it had long been part of her fantasy. Except, she realised as she sat back up again to rest her hands on his shoulders, that particular fantasy had been all about Roderick, whereas this one was brand new and only belonged to John.

Laid bare and prone with his feet propped up on the front facing leather seats of his Land Rover, his head was tilted backwards in ecstasy, on the folded down rear seats. Her initial reaction to him may have been guided by her earlier crush on Roderick but this moment, this exquisite sexual moment, was all about John. Who could have asked for such a gentle, loving, intelligent man and then expect to receive him? Nerys had once joked that Donna would only find happiness with a man who hardly spoke and could fulfil her fantasies. Well hadn't that one come true enough to bite Nerys in the arse? Oh yes!

A raw emotion welled up within Donna as John's hands returned to rest on her hips. "I…," she tried to declare as love for him roared through her being.

He chose that moment to lift his upper torso in order to plant ravenous kisses upon her lips, holding her as close as possible. "My angel," he gasped out. "Oh my beautiful angel!" The next second he gripped her tightly as his body shuddered. His breathing was rapid as he almost wilted back down onto the seating, taking her with him and within his loving embrace. Loving kisses were placed on her face as his heart rate tried to calm down. "You're fantastic," he enthused, the joy evident in his voice.

"You're not so bad yourself," Donna modestly retorted as they continued to pet each other.

"No, I mean it," he insisted, trailing a loving finger across her cheek. "I know this is a bit soon, but love at first sight used to be a thing I scoffed at."

"Love?" she queried, suddenly choked at his choice of words. How could she criticise such an emotion? Because she had questioned it within herself, mistaking it for something else entirely. "And there was me thinking it was just lust," she joked.

John chuckled. "Well… there is that too. I won't deny it; except…," he replied, and tenderly kissed her lips. "I think we could be brilliant together."

"I think we already are," she answered in a small voice, barely able to believe she had uttered the words. This wasn't her usual style at all. It must be all down to the man she was currently nestled up with on the back seats of a car. For some reason that made her feel really happy; for the first time since she could remember.

"Do you think you could be interested in a soon to be ex-farmer? I mean, I haven't got much to offer you," he sadly wondered.

She really hoped he could see her encouraging grin in the low light. "You fall in love with the person, not their job, you prawn. I only care about being with you. Everything else can sort itself out later."

"Then you'll have me?" His hopefulness and vulnerability were all too evident.

"Try stopping me," she murmured as she covered his lips with her own.

Judging by the way he returned her kisses, he believed her, and her spirit soared with happiness.

* * *

Apparently Ricky had booked a table for two o'clock, since he was travelling home that evening, so John had arranged to personally pick up Donna whereas his parents were been driven there by transport organised by his cousin. Little did she know that they were being driven by Roderick's chauffeur, having assumed he had merely booked them a taxi, and thought no more of it. Her main worry was dressing to impress them all and have an outfit that made her feel confident. Smart casual, John had insisted; so she kept this in mind as she perused her wardrobe.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on your viewpoint, she hadn't brought a great deal with her, clothing wise, so her choice was limited to the matching outfits hanging on the rail. Most of it was very business-like rather than glamorous, so that would have to do. It was possible to dress it up using jewellery and accessories, she reasoned.

"What do you think?" she had wondered when she had presented Jocasta with her final three options. "This, this or this one?" Each option was pointed at as it lay on her bed, side by side.

"Hmm." Jocasta carefully weighed up the pros and cons of each possible outfit. "I think you ought to go with the blue."

"Blue it is then," Donna stated decisively, and mentally mapped out the rest of her upcoming options.

* * *

John looked extremely proud of himself when he knocked on the front door to collect Donna.

"Nice suit," she gasped out when she saw him. The tailored jacket broadened his shoulders and narrowed his waist in a very pleasing way, and the striped silken tie complemented the underlying crisp cotton shirt and jacket wonderfully. "I can see why your mum told you to save it for best."

"Can you?" he wondered as he nervously fiddled with the tie knot.

"Yes, so leave it alone," she fondly chided him, and adjusted his tie to sit properly. "We can't have you looking like a scarecrow." She then took the opportunity to lean in close in order to whisper, "Jocasta has been quizzing me to within an inch of my life about last night."

"What did you tell her?!" he hissed in anxious tones.

"Nothing much," she consoled him. "I had to admit we snogged, obviously."

"Obviously," he agreed with a knowing grin. "But nothing about...?" he enquired, trying to keep the smirk off his face as he thought about their passionate activities, and how long it had taken to de-mist the windows afterwards.

"Not a word," she quickly assured him as Jocasta's footsteps were heard on the creaking wooden stairs.

"Oh hello, John! I didn't realise you were here yet. Where is your car?" Jocasta asked him.

"I was erm... I was dropped off by the village green. Mum and Dad went on ahead," John explained. "We're travelling in Donna's car."

"I see," Jocasta remarked in a tone that suggested that she didn't approve at all.

"This way I can't possibly show myself up by drinking too much," Donna added on to deflect any bad feelings.

"Are you likely to do that, my dear?" Jocasta pondered with concern.

Donna merely shrugged to show her lack of knowledge. "I dunno, but there's always a first time, so at least I'm avoiding it."

Jocasta frowned in confusion. Young people do and say such odd things these days. "Anyway, be that as it may; I hope you both have a very pleasant meal together."

They both chorused their thanks and headed out of the door.

* * *

Jocasta waved them off, and then went to produce her ideas notebook from its draw. The next item she grabbed was her favourite pen to write with. In her case it was a silver inscribed Parker pen that her mother had presented to her after the publication of her first romantic story in a magazine called Woman's Weekly. It was her most prized possession in daily use.

Having obtained her writing implements, she sat herself down in a comfy armchair covered in chintzy fabric, and turned to the page with the title: Ill Met By Satnav. It would do as a working title for now, and it amused her greatly. Writing in her neat script, she added to the notes there by stating that the heroine was the sort that drove the hero about when necessary, was keen to keep a clear head at all times, and refused to be dictated to by the usual standards of dating etiquette. Yes, she felt that described Donna to a T. As for the hero, she put that he didn't feel his masculinity was threatened by such a woman, instead he relished in such thinking and adored her independence. Her only problem was how 'modern' such a scenario was; but she could salvage it for a historical romance if she set it during the Second World War when women often took over traditional male jobs. It certainly got her creative juices flowing; and she happily set to, getting the best part of a chapter written by the time Donna arrived home again.

* * *

The drive to the Blue Peacock Restaurant was pleasant enough in the afternoon sunshine; but it turned sour as soon as they stepped in through the front doors after parking the car conveniently close by.

"Excuse me, madam, but would you mind moving your car? It's blocking the delivery entrance," the maître d'hôtel asked her politely.

Donna was completely mortified. "Oh my gawd! I am so sorry! I'll do that straight."

"I'll wait for you here," John instantly offered in moral support.

"No, you go in ahead," she insisted. "I won't be long."

The waiter smiled consolingly. "I'll escort you in, madam," he promised.

It only took a couple of minutes to shift the car into a safer parking spot and then she was being led through the various levels of the hotel restaurant. It rambled almost as much as a Harvester restaurant does, she casually noted.

She could easily see Verity sitting at the table as they approached, winding around a corner to enter a more secluded part of the restaurant. Also at the table were three men. Her gaze landed on John in relief just as the man two chairs to his right stood up to greet her.

"Here you are," the waiter announced as they reached the furthest point possible from the main doors. "The Peterson party."

'The who?!' she instantly wondered; right before she took in who exactly was stood right in front of her: only Roderick bloody Peterson!

"You made it," he declared in very pleased tones, and stuck out a hand to welcome her into the seat between him and John.

Everyone else thought he was being exceptionally polite but Donna had just caught up mentally with what the waiter had said and the sight of her ex-crush. "You what?" she lamely asked. "I was…"

John had stood too by this point and was dividing his attention between smiling at his parents and his guest. "Dad, Ricky, this is Donna," he stated proudly.

"Hello, love," Sydney cheerily greeted her. "Sit yourself down and make yourself comfortable."

To her amazement, Donna managed to utter a greeting to the table in general. Both Donna and Roderick looked equally stunned; but for different reasons, obviously.

"How do you know Donna?" Roderick demanded to know as his hand dropped away to his side.

"She's with me," John proclaimed as he took hold of her elbow and wrist to draw her closer.

"This is John's lady friend we told you about, pet," Verity added in a hiss that also managed to suggest that Roderick keep his voice down, thank you very much.

"But…" Roderick looked momentarily crestfallen, before sitting himself down carefully with a pout on his face. The frown stayed on his countenance as he watched John pulled out Donna's chair for her and then assisted her getting comfortable at the table. "You said you were otherwise engaged this evening," he said pointedly to Donna in a low voice.

"I did," she agreed, adjusting her napkin to lay it on her lap as she fought with her rampant emotions. "And this is me being that, Roderick."

To her left, John was midway to sitting himself back down as he exclaimed, "You know our Ricky?!"

"Yes, I do," she cautiously admitted, unable to meet his inquisitive and questioning gaze.

"Donna and I were colleagues," Roderick supplied. "We worked together intimately for many months."

Donna wanted the floor to open and swallow her up; but only after she could get the chance to shut Roderick up. The smug git describing her like that!


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** you might like part of this...

* * *

**Part 11**

.

Trying to ignore the blush that was obviously exploding all over her face, and the general enquiring attention suddenly focused on her, Donna piped up with, "That was quite a while ago now. I've moved on. Rod-Roderick was a previous boss of mine; you see. I was his personal assistant until Daisy took over."

There was a strained look about John's expression. "How long?" he wanted to know.

She shyly glanced at him. "How long ago or how long did I work for him?"

"Both!" he declared through gritted teeth.

"Is it a problem that Donna was my girl Friday, John?" Roderick smoothly wondered; his concern dripped through his words like wasps on a sugary drink. "I assure you nothing untoward happened."

Yeah, like that didn't make it sound as if something had. Donna seethed with embarrassment and indignation. "Cheek! I was much more than that; I was his personal assistant," she clarified for Verity and Sydney. "And as for any shenanigans happening where I was concerned, it certainly didn't. Daisy on the other hand…" That'd drop him in it!

"What did you do to the girl?" Sydney asked Roderick. "To this Daisy she mentioned?"

Roderick shot a warning glare at Donna. "Nothing, Uncle Sydney. Donna merely relinquished her interest in working with me, and Daisy took over her position."

He said what?! Blind fury made her blurt out, "Oh yeah? Funny that, because I don't remember having a set position that included me being in your bed!"

Everyone else at the table gasped in shock, but Roderick stayed calm. She was merely acting from a bitter standpoint, he told himself. "Not that such a position had long been your ambition, dear Donna," he tormented her with. "Such a shame. But then who could blame you for being jealous?"

The cutlery went flying then as Donna forced her body up out of her seat and her hand landed with a loud smack on Roderick's face in an involuntary act. "Jealous! You bastard!" she spat out at him. Part of her was quite pleased that he almost fell off his chair as he dealt with the blow.

John instantly grabbed hold of her arm to stop her taking another swipe at his cousin, but Donna's anger was already spent, and she shook off his strong grasp.

"I think you'd better leave," Verity suggested in a low bitter tone.

"John?" Donna half sobbed as she looked to him for support, but he was merely staring at her dumbfounded, still unable to believe she had actually lashed out. "Yes, I'd better," she agreed, grabbing up her coat and handbag whilst wiping away the hasty tears that appeared on her cheeks. "I'll leave you all to er…"

But she didn't bother to finish her sentence, let alone her thoughts, as she marched away from the scene as quickly as she could. Her only consolation was the fact she had landed a slap fair and squarely on one of Roderick's faces; the one he presented to his family. The other one she knew he kept for private.

Once outside in the cold air, her brave façade crumpled and she burst into tears. How had everything descended so quickly and so badly? Part of her knew that she would have to cry this out enough to enable her to be able to see as she drove back home to Jocasta's; and there would be the little matter of trying to decipher what the aftermath might be.

Had she ruined it for John's parents to be able to carry on living on the farm? Would he ever want to see her again? Did this mean, yet again, that her mother was right about her inability to get and keep any man, let alone a decent one? It was all so horrible.

* * *

Back inside the restaurant, Sydney had broken the tension by asking, "What was that all about?"

Roderick nursed his cheek and addressed his stunned cousin by commenting, "Donna always was a little fiery. It is nice to see that she hasn't lost any of her passion."

"Are you saying that Donna was once your girlfriend?" Verity openly asked.

With a shake of his head, Roderick replied, "No, Aunt Verity. Much as I was tempted by her ways, I resisted her charms. It seems that John here did not."

The implied criticism broke through John's hurt trance. "What are you trying to say?!"

"Nothing of any harm," Roderick insisted, and took a long sip of cold water from his glass on the table before him. "But Donna has a particular reputation, and obviously tried to get to me via you."

A small choking sound came from John's throat as he contemplated this possibility. No, it couldn't be so! Donna's surprise when she saw Roderick couldn't have been faked. After all, he had been the one to mention his cousin Ricky, not Donna.

Pushing back his chair, he announced, "Excuse me." And then made off to seek out where Donna might have gone when she had fled.

"Roderick! What did you really do?" Verity growled at him in anger. "If you have deliberately upset John just to get back at that girl…!"

The threat did not fall on deaf ears, and Roderick looked contrite for a second. "I'm sorry, Aunt Verity," he mumbled. "I'll make it up to him; to you."

"You'd better," she retorted.

He gave a sniff and picked up the nearest menu. "Let's choose something to eat and then we can discuss all this properly."

Sydney picked up his own menu with a resigned air, knowing that his wife was only more than willing to take on her nephew and beat him into submission. Perhaps the appearance of John's Donna would turn out to be fortunate for their predicament after all…

* * *

John raced through the restaurant, peeping into every corner to see where Donna had possibly gone, without any luck. "Come on. Where are you?" he quietly spoke aloud.

"Excuse me, sir, but are you looking for your wife?" the maître d'hôtel asked when he spotted John frantically searching.

"Yes!" John quickly replied, deciding to ignore the title mistake for now. "Did you see where she went?"

The maître d'hôtel pointed towards the main entrance. "She stepped outside for a breath of fresh air, sir."

"Thank you!" John threw at him as he burst out through the restaurant doors.

The first thing he spotted was Donna's car still sitting in the car park. Thank goodness for that! It meant that he was in with a chance to catch her. The next thing he spotted was Donna herself, leaning against the wooden cladding on the wall by the side of the main entrance doors, watching him dart his gaze about with great interest. In her hands were her mobile phone and several used tissues.

It must have looked quite comical, the way he suddenly halted in his tracks, like a rabbit caught in the headlights of a lorry; but he saw no humour in the situation. And to top it all, soft rain began to fall, threatening to drench them in the next ten minutes.

They stood staring at each other, not knowing what the best start to their conversation would be.

"Well? Are you going to stand there gawping at me all day, or are you going to ask me whatever questions are on your mind?" Donna testily quizzed him.

Swivelling on the spot, he spluttered, "Oh! I don't know, but erm… if you… I think we should talk."

"Rightio," she agreed. "Go on then: talk!"

No no no no! This wouldn't do. Not here, in public. He shook his head, "No, not here. Can't we go somewhere else?"

"Like where?" she demanded. "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather get dumped here, and then I can just go straight home."

"Dumped?!" he echoed. "Who said anything about being dumped?"

"It doesn't matter, because you're going to dump me after what that arsehole said about me in there," Donna bitterly stated. "The continuing saga of 'Daisy Gets Her Man'."

A puzzled frown crossed his face. "I'm sorry, but who is Daisy, and why are we discussing her?"

With an exasperated sigh, she explained, "Daisy is Roderick's shag bunny; the one that won. The one that always wins. And I end up looking like a complete idiot."

The puzzled expression deepened. "I really don't get what some woman that Roderick bothers to sleep with has to do with me!" John confessed. "Unless he stole her off you; or..." Several thoughts could be seen to whirl through his head. "…she stole him. Did she, Donna? Did she steal Roderick from you?" It hurt so much to ask the question, but he had to know.

Averting her gaze, she reluctantly whispered out, "Yes."

How he stopped himself from screaming in horror he didn't know. As it was, he sunk to his hunches, trying to catch his breath as the implications hit him. Ricky was right! She had used him to get back to Ricky. All that had happened between them was a complete sham.

Then he felt Donna's comforting arms capture him, her mouth whispered soft words into his ear, as she tried to manoeuvre him away from the building. "It's not what you think," she told him. "Let's get into the car and out of the wet. I promise I'll explain, but just let me get you somewhere private."

So he let her guide him into the front passenger seat of her little blue Peugeot, all the time wondering what on earth she could say that would make this all better. This was a nightmare; it had to be. Things like this didn't really happen.

"Well?" he immediately asked her once her door was shut and she was sitting in the driver's seat beside him. He could hear the sob catch in his throat but he didn't care anymore. If she was merely after Ricky then he had to find out what it meant for his parents and his future life.

Taking in a deep breath, she tried to be brave but his wet, accusing look was breaking her heart. "Your cousin is a lying scumbag," she began. "He made it sound as if we were heavily involved, when we weren't. No, hear me out. I was merely his PA, and yes, I confess that I did fancy him for a while. He used that against me, getting me to work longer hours training Daisy, with the promise of rewarding me. As it turned out, my reward was Daisy getting my job, all the credit for my hard work, and a place by his side. All I got was redundancy with no pay out. He couldn't wait to get rid of me once she squirmed her way into his bed; but then he had the cheek to phone me up the other day and offer me a new job, giving me a load of baloney about needing my skills, and an invite to go out with him for dinner today!"

John's mouth opened and closed a few times like a gasping goldfish. Finally he managed to ask, "Did you love him?"

"I thought I did, but I didn't," she disclosed. "I don't know what I ever saw in him."

"And me?"

"What about you?"

He blew out his cheeks as he tried to decide on his next question. "What did you know about me?"

"I knew he had family in the country, that he was considering buying a farm, that he wanted to rescue an old family business, but I didn't know anything about you," she supplied as honestly as she could. "I thought it was a mere coincidence that you looked a bit like him, and I tried not to use that against you."

"So it wasn't a plus?" A disbelieving hollow laugh escaped from his lips.

"Okay, I admit it helped. But you surpassed that."

"How?" he inevitably wanted to know.

She snorted her scorn. "Have you seen yourself in your black jeans? You are gorgeous, and I mean in a drop dead gorgeous sort of way. And your eyes are way lovelier than his. I don't think anyone has ever looked at me the way you do. His eyes are usually cold and calculating when he isn't trying to charm the birds out of the trees. And don't get me started on his hair! I dread to think how much muck he uses on it."

A smile spread across John's face at that thought. It was true; Ricky loved his slicked back style. Goodness knew where he had got it from.

"Are we okay, you and me?" Donna cautiously wondered.

He risked nodding. "I think we can be," he quietly replied, and gulped down his doubts.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** I'm so sorry about the long delay caused by frequent migraines.

* * *

**Part 12**

.

So many doubts swirled through John's head; all of them concerning what he could provide as a viable future for Donna, since she had previously chosen someone successful like his cousin Ricky to love and adore. And now there was this home relocation problem that threatened to throw everything into chaos. If he didn't say something now, he might balls it up for them forever, when it had felt so right being with her in oh so many ways. His heart pounded anxiously in his chest as his brain fought to find the right words to express his feelings in that moment. "I really don't want to lose you from my life, Donna. And…" He ground out, "It's no good."

"No good?!" she whimpered in fear. Was he dumping her after all?

John fisted his hands as he sat there, trying to control his emotions; wanting to passionately kiss her whilst also wanting to lash out in blind fury. 'Calm yourself down,' he kept telling himself "I can't just leave it like this," he attempted to explain. "Ricky knew you felt something for him. Did he know all along?"

"Yes, but…"

It was too painful an admission, so he cut her off. "And he favoured this Daisy girl over you?"

"He did," she confirmed with a nod, wondering what he was leading up to.

Get it in context, the logical side of him insisted. "What did he say exactly when you stopped working for him?"

"He erm… he said…" Tears welled up in her eyes at the thought of the painful memory. "He said he had all the employees he wanted and I was 'superfluous' to his needs; that I'd long stopped being an asset."

Appalled that Ricky was such a git and she should still find her dismissal so upsetting, he forged on with his last question, "Then why did he ask you to work for him again?"

"I dunno," she admitted with a sniff, and made use of her tissues again. "He told me he needed my particular skills for his new project and gave me the impression that Daisy was as useless as I thought she was."

Realisation suddenly hit John, and everything was crystal clear in his mind. Ricky seeking Donna out now was no coincidence; instead it was a worked oracle. "He wants you to run the farm! That is it!" he cried, bringing his hands up to grab handfuls of hair on his head in agitation. His expression was thunderous. "I am sorry, Donna, but this needs to be done."

"What does? Tell me, John!" she begged, but he was already halfway out of the car and striding angrily back into the restaurant.

As soon as John had left them alone, Verity had taken her chance and rounded on Roderick in anger. "How could you?" she hissed in disbelief.

"What, Aunt Verity? I didn't say anything," he smoothly replied as if he didn't have a care in the world.

"Do not take us for idiots," Sydney warned him. "You may be taking over the family farm but it does not give you any rights to insult all and sundry; especially where John and his girlfriend are concerned!"

"I merely spoke the truth," Roderick defended himself and dismissively returned his gaze to the menu in front of him.

A familiar hand suddenly slapped the menu down onto the table, obstructing his view of it.

"No, Ricky; you acted like a spoilt brat who had had his favourite toy taken away," an irate Verity informed him, ignoring his resultant cry of protest. "I may not have seen much of Donna but she is a lovely girl and she makes our John very happy. If you jeopardise that I shall tan your hide!"

"I am a little old for such treatment," Roderick retorted, despite being affected by her words.

"I don't care how old you are!" Verity fumed. "You will always be the same little boy to me who came and played in my kitchen with the washing up bowl and soapy water."

A blush appeared on Roderick's cheeks at the memory. Nothing would ever make him reveal that being at his beloved aunt's home was a much treasured memory of his childhood. "I grew up long ago," he murmured.

"Then prove it!" she bitterly challenged him. "Act like a proper grownup for once and, pardon my French, stop being such an arse towards the people you actually like."

"Who said…?" he started to ask in denial, but he was interrupted.

"It's plain as the nose on your face that you like if not love that poor girl," Verity insisted. "You were getting back at Donna for some reason, and it wasn't pleasant to sit here and watch it happen. So stop it, I say! Stop it now!"

"But I…" Roderick was at a loss for words to continue to defend himself from his aunt's words.

Did he love Donna? Surely not, part of him scoffed. He didn't do full romantic love. Never had done. Even his current liaison with Daisy was merely for evening entertainment, with the odd moment of having her as a trophy girlfriend; and he could have had Donna in his bed at the click of his fingers if he had so desired. Except he hadn't done that, but had kept her at a distance, working her to the bone as she tried to endlessly please him; always looking at him with those deep blue amber-ringed eyes of hers, and smiling that reassuring smile she tended to flash in his direction that made things seem so right.

There was no doubt in his mind that he admired her skills in an office; he wouldn't have offered her a PA job as a major part of his latest project if he hadn't thought she was perfectly capable of doing a brilliant job of it. Many people had remarked on what a treasure she was in the office, and he had keenly missed her after she had left. In a moment of weakness he had allowed Daisy's jealousy to sway his decision towards letting Donna go when he really shouldn't have done. Consequent events had shown that she had been the company asset he had denied she was, and he longed for her to return forthwith.

But that wasn't love, couldn't be love. It was probably him reacting to seeing her again, and with his cousin John, of all people. What had made her choose _him_? If it had been any other woman, he would have willingly cheered for John's good fortune, because he certainly deserved to meet such a lovely woman; but this was Donna, and Donna didn't belong with John. Quiet, studious, and ultimately lonely John who lived only for the farm and pleasing his parents. Oh no! She belonged with…

Mentally berating himself, Roderick hastily shook off where that line of thought was leading. It would not do to think in such a way, and he was probably only being reactionary.

"What about us?" Sydney questioned him, breaking the spell and forcing his mind onto the current situation. "Have your plans got anything laid out for where we'll live?"

* * *

"Ah, John; good to see you're back!" Roderick later genially greeted the sight of his returning cousin. "I hope you don't mind but I took the liberty of ordering the main course for us all…" But his words halted as John irately took hold of the lapels of his jacket and forcibly hauled him out of his seat. "John?! Surely we can talk about this in a civilised manner."

John merely bared his teeth, slammed Roderick up against the nearest wall, and punched him hard in the face. First with a right hook that caught his mouth and then with a left uppercut to the chin.

The third punch never landed because Sydney grabbed hold of John's arms from behind, pinning him from moving. "STOP!" he commanded.

Short sharp breaths came out of John as Roderick tentatively touched his aching lip and then the right side of his jaw; wincing with pain and feeling slightly sick at the sight of blood on his fingers.

It was only when John finished squirming did Sydney release his tight hold on his arms.

"You've split his lip!" Verity stated in shocked tones. "What's come over you, John?"

"I'll kick Ricky's head in if he tries any more of his tricks," John seethed. Pointing an irate finger at Roderick, he spat at him, "That was for how you treated Donna and then thinking you'd get her to run our farm."

By this part of the conversation Roderick had picked up a pristine white linen napkin from the table and was using it to dab at his wound as nonchalantly as possible. "I do not understand the problem. Donna is perfectly capable of dealing with all the paperwork running the farm involves; her skill set is very diverse."

"I'm sure it is; but I want you to repeat in front of John what you said about the farmhouse," Verity verbally prodded him.

With obvious reluctance, Roderick restated what he had previously told his aunt and uncle. "I said you can reside in the farmhouse until I have paid for a barn conversion for you all to live in. And I am sorry for making it sound as though I were insulting your girlfriend."

Sydney had fully released John by this point, so he adjusted his jacket sleeves. "Apology accepted," John equally reluctantly agreed.

"Now shake hands," Verity ordered them.

"Mum!"

"Aunt Verity!"

Their joint protest pleased Verity slightly. "I mean it," she testily declared. "Or do I have to make you kiss each other first too?"

Both of them responded, "No!"

"Okay then…" She glared at them expectantly, and waited for the required handshake.

There was a brief handshake as they eyed each other warily.

"Good! Can we please now get back to the point of this family business meal? Because I am starving," Verity demanded; and Sydney hurriedly agreed with her. "Oh, while I think of it; go and get Donna! The poor girl must be at her wits end."

~0~

* * *

As Donna had raced back into the hotel restaurant to follow in John's wake, back through the reception area, she found herself being called out to; much to her surprise.

"Donna! Is that you?" a well-known young blonde woman standing by the reception desk cried. "What on earth are you doing here?"

Funny how that sounded like an accusation. Oh no! This was all she needed right now. "Daisy! I wasn't expecting to see you up here. Roderick said you were staying down in London," Donna managed to reply. My, Daisy had certainly squeezed some money out of Roderick, judging by the expensive clothing she was wearing, her perfume, makeup and the carefully dyed and styled blonde hair.

"Oh, you know." Daisy tried to conspiratorially smile at her. "He happened to mention he was carrying out some job interviews, and that one of them was with you."

Smug revenge wanted to blossom out all over Donna's face. Daisy must have absolutely hated the thought of Roderick deliberately seeking her out. Ooh goodie! "Did he?" she wondered, aiming for nonchalance. "When was that?"

"This morning," Daisy innocently supplied, not knowing how much ammunition she had just handed over.

"Blimey! You must have left straight away," Donna commented; but was unsurprised that Daisy managed to ignore that remark.

Instead, Daisy swept her gaze around the reception area. "Have you seen where he is? I want this to be a nice little surprise for him. He must have missed me terribly."

"Depends how good a shot he is," Donna muttered under her breath. "He was in the main restaurant last time I saw him," she aimed to brightly respond instead.

But any thoughts of revenge were replaced by other ones entirely when John appeared purposefully striding towards them, and Daisy happily squealed, "Roddy, baby! Look who's here to cheer you up."

She then threw herself forward to hug a rather startled John. He immediately prised her unwanted tight grip on him off and inevitably asked, "Excuse me, but who are you?"

Daisy looked heartbroken. "Don't be mean. It's me." She then made another grab for him that he niftily sideswiped.

It was all Donna could do to hide her silent laughter. "You've got it all wrong. This is Roderick's cousin John, Daisy; there's Roderick," she pointed out as the man himself closely followed, looking none too pleased at the sight greeting him in reception.


	13. Chapter 13

**Part 13**

.

"Roderick?! What happened to your face?" Daisy loudly cried out in concern, shooting forward to try and embrace him.

Just like John had done, Roderick pushed her away from his body, with far too much disdain considering their supposed close and intimate relationship. "I fell and caught my face on the edge of a chair," he lied. "Nothing to worry about."

"Are you sure?" Donna queried with a snort of scorn as John averted a guilty expression and Roderick glanced at her with a none-too-pleased smirk.

"Why did you come here, Daisy?" he demanded to know instead, in a deliciously testy voice, Donna noted.

"I wanted to see you," Daisy insisted through a much practiced pout.

'Yeah, of course you did,' Donna thought to herself in disbelief. To her delight, Roderick arched an eyebrow in query, obviously thinking along similar lines.

"Since I have covered the most important ground with my family, I suppose you'd better come and eat with us all," Roderick reluctantly offered. "If that is okay with you, John?"

"That's fine," John hurriedly agreed.

"Excuse me then while I speak to the management for a moment," Roderick politely requested and strolled over to the reception desk to the eagerly waiting receptionist.

Seizing his opportunity, John reached out a hand to escort Donna back to the dining table, and pulled her close; but she resisted his efforts to guide her back. "I don't think I should," she hastily told him in low tones. "I can easily get something to eat elsewhere on the way home."

"It's all been sorted," he whispered into her ear as they very slowly walked. "Mum made us come and get you after we… erm… we had a few words."

"What's that special code for?" she wondered with trepidation. "Is she going to have another go at me?"

John halted their progress through the restaurant in order to sincerely reassure her, "Oh no! It's nothing like that, honest it isn't. Mum wanted to have a private moment with our Ricky; she didn't mean to make it sound as bad as that when she... I am so sorry she ordered you out, and I think she is too. I'm almost certain of it."

"Are you sure? Because I don't want to go where I'm not wanted," Donna insisted.

"Oh Donna!" he sadly exclaimed. "I would never put you in such a position," he continued, leaning in close whilst he tenderly caressed her cheek. He would have added in a kiss too but Roderick suddenly placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

A waiter anxiously hovered nearby as Roderick tetchily asked John, "Are you two coming?" Without thinking, he went to lay a hand on Donna's arm but she flinched away, and he found himself frowning as much at her as he did himself, wondering what he had been thinking. Ignoring Daisy's attempt to reach for him instead, he strode purposely forward.

"Sorry," John immediately apologised, and then took a possessive hold of Donna's hand to take her with them.

* * *

"We found Donna," Roderick proudly announced to his aunt and uncle when they reached the table, and watched a waiter hastily place an extra chair and cutlery for the additional place setting on the table. "My friend shall have the soup," he told the waiter before returning his attention to his family. "She was talking to my work acquaintance from London, so I invited her to dine with us too. Daisy, may I present my Aunt Verity and Uncle Sydney."

Donna couldn't help mentally noting that Roderick still liked to order and control the food of his companion; but she bit down on any outward observation.

Greetings were cordially exchanged, and Roderick guided Daisy to sit between him and his aunt whilst Donna resumed her previous seat between him and John. Roderick smiled genially at her as she was informed, "I ordered the fish for you. I hope you don't mind."

Bugger! He'd done it to her again. Would he ever stop doing that to her when they met? All she could do in the circumstances was politely confirm that she didn't mind, and smile just as sweetly back. It also had the added bonus of peeing Daisy off that Roderick was paying her attention.

"So… you two work together?" Verity questioned her new companion as their food arrived.

"Oh yes!" Daisy gushed. "I didn't know Roddy had a cousin that looked so much like him."

John suddenly found a very flirty look being aimed in his direction. A look that seemed quite familiar. "You remind of someone I met once," he remarked.

"Who? Was it Kate Moss? Because I often get told I look like her," Daisy boasted.

"No, not her," John quickly denied.

"Was it Sienna Miller?" Daisy tried instead. "Roddy likes her, quite a lot."

"Ah! Hence the extra blondness," Donna muttered to herself under her breath. It all made sense now.

Unfortunately she was heard, and Roderick managed to distract her attention enough to glare meaningfully. "Daisy, your soup is getting cold. It would be criminal if you let it go to waste."

"Roddy is so caring about making sure I eat properly," Daisy proudly remarked to Verity. "It would be awful if I didn't watch my weight too." She then let out a much-practised giggle.

"He has always been caring. Does the weight watching mean you have no intention of having any children?" Verity considered.

"Hell yes!" Daisy enthusiastically confirmed, scrunching her face up in disgust at the thought. "We don't want a baby, do we, Roddy?"

"Is that true?" Verity asked her nephew, hoping it wasn't.

After carefully dabbing his mouth with his napkin and then placing it back in his lap, Roderick considered his answer; fully aware of the scrutiny of his table companions. "I have no such plans, and I do not believe that I have had much experience of babies or young children. I cannot say I have deliberately sought them out."

"There was that baby at the last school choir championships you conducted at," Donna supplied without thinking. "You took rather a shine to her."

"Donna!" Roderick warned; a full blown scowl on his face.

"You think I didn't see you backstage cooing away to her when you thought no one was looking," she continued, deliberately ignoring his angry pout. Any regard she had for that had long since gone. Plus, the bruised lip detracted from the effect, and so far no one had told her why or how he had the injury. From John's shy demeanour she could only guess it was his fault, and that made her both proud and chuffed with him. "I'm trying to remember her name. Her mum seemed really nice, considering all that fuss, and then there was that other baby..."

"Yes, it was an eventful day," Roderick curtly cut across her reminiscing. Part of him was mortified he had been seen being vulnerable; although it had evidently worked in his favour where Donna was concerned, now that he had a chance to examine that time, and would do so properly later, when alone. Once Daisy could be packed off to leave him be with his thoughts, obviously. The woman was like a limpet at times, and could only be prised off if he threw money in the opposite direction.

Verity smiled with delight. Now this was the sort of thing she wanted to hear about their Ricky. It reminded her that he could still be the decent human being she knew he was underneath all that imposing guise. "Do you still keep in touch?" she wondered.

"I sent a birthday gift and I had a Christmas card," he responded before he knew it, and blushed in embarrassment. "Nothing anybody else would have done in the same circumstances."

"Of course," Verity agreed, still smiling with undisguised relief. "I'm sure John would have done the same."

"Who me?" John spluttered, distracted from eating his steak and listening to Donna managing to reveal information about their Ricky. "I'd be frightened to hold a baby, in case I dropped it or something."

"It would only be like holding a newborn lamb, and you've probably held dozens of those," Donna pointed out in an effort to console him.

"I know; but a baby... you have to worry about their heads, you know, supporting their necks, and making sure they are safe, warm and happy. I'm not sure I could do all that," John worriedly admitted.

It was so easy for her to reach out and take his nearest hand in comfort and give it a reassuring squeeze. Instead of making the obvious comparison with Roderick, that if he could do it then anyone could, she said, "By saying that you've just proved you'd be excellent at being a father." When his eyes went wide in surprise, she quickly added, "Or just holding someone else's baby."

"There's more to being a father than holding a baby," Sydney retorted jovially. "And you have to find the perfect woman to have them with," he continued, aiming his praise towards his wife. "We were only blessed with only the one but she did me proud."

Verity inevitably smiled modestly back.

"Do I make you proud, Roddy?" Daisy simpered in his direction, having felt rather left out in this family discussion.

'Proud' was not the word he would have chosen at that moment. "Present company does not allow me to divulge how you make me feel," he diplomatically tried to answer, and gained a pleased grin.

He never said that?! Donna immediately swallowed her food wrongly, and had a coughing fit. Two strong hands suddenly started patting her on the back.

"Give her a sip of water," Verity ordered them.

"I'm fine," Donna gasped out after some seconds, and wiped at her watery eyes. "Blimey! I wasn't expecting that. Probably a fish bone, or something, went down the wrong hole."

"Or something," Roderick echoed; and then to her complete surprise, he winked at Donna.

What had come over him lately? Stifling a giggle, she turned to see if John had noticed; but he hadn't. Instead, he was looking at her with great concern.

"Are you okay?" he mouthed, obviously wanting to take a firm hold of her hand.

Aww, he was so sweet and adorable! "Yes," she answered, resisting the urge to grab and kiss him then and there. That would have to wait until later.

On the other side of the table both Verity and Sydney were thrilled to see the tender exchange; but it was only Verity who noted Roderick's less than pleased expression.

"Tell me, Daisy, were you working with our Roderick when Donna was still with him?" Verity asked.

Daisy nodded as she finished her soup, and wiped off any possible remnants on her face with her linen napkin. "It was Donna who acted as my mentor when I first started. You should have seen me, I didn't know a thing!"

"And didn't we know it," Donna commented only loud enough for John and Roderick to catch her words.

"But I picked things up really quickly," Daisy continued, "so much so that when Roddy had to choose one of us to leave, I got to stay."

"Yay! Who'd have believed that one happening," Donna couldn't help adding quietly.

A frown appeared on Verity's face. "Am I right in thinking you're his girlfriend?" That gained another enthusiastic nod. "Then does that mean you will both be living one day in the farm-"

"Aunt Verity," Roderick quickly interrupted her question. "The finer details haven't been decided upon yet; there are very many different alternatives available in the near future."

"What are you going on about, Roddy? I don't understand," Daisy admitted. "Where does your aunt think we'll be living?"

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it yet," Roderick patronised her without showing a hint of embarrassment. "Any relocation would need to be thought through very carefully."

"Why don't you talk it over with our John while me and your uncle head for home?" Verity proposed. "It was a lovely meal. Thank you for treating us."

"Yes, it was smashing," Sydney remarked. "But I need to go and rest, and I'm sure you want to spend more time with Daisy here." He smiled sweetly at the girl in sympathy. It was obvious she was not going to get the relationship she was hoping for.

"Of course," Roderick accepted their suggestion. "John and I can catch up properly, and I'll see you both tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Verity queried in surprise. "I thought you were going back to London tonight."

"I've decide to stay on for a bit longer," Roderick reluctantly revealed. "I cancelled my engagement for tonight and things need discussing here."

It certainly had Verity wondering what his motive was in not returning back to the capital as soon as possible. He'd been quite keen to cut his visit short before the meal had started; which left only two possible candidates for his change of heart.

As for John, he was wondering what his cousin's motivation was too with this sudden change of heart. It was with some hesitation that he bade his parents goodbye and a safe journey home in Roderick's limousine. He really didn't like finding himself being forced into spending quality time with Ricky. Was this a genuine attempt at socialising or merely a ploy to establish who the alpha male with their female companions was? The next half hour would probably tell.

"Are you alright?" Donna anxiously asked him as Roderick settled the bill.

"I'll let you know later," he discretely answered. "Just promise me this, please; don't leave me on my own with Daisy. She's terrifying."

With a happy chuckle, it was easy for Donna to assure him she wouldn't. As for her own chances with Roderick, well, that was yet to be seen.


End file.
